


Lotte's seen a ghoul

by LaQuintrala134



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Gen, Horror, NSFW, Other, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaQuintrala134/pseuds/LaQuintrala134
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An account of life in a ghoul-infested Tokyo from both sides, this story sees its protagonist trying to maintain both her health and sanity in a hostile environment. All the while she undergoes a drastic change that threatens to leave her disfigured and very much dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Docile neighbourhood

**Author's Note:**

> Trgger warning for body horror and heavy sexual stuff later on.

A/N This is a very trimmed down version of earlier chapter 1. The rest of them are under heavy revision as well. I hope it’s much more readable than before! As always, all suggestions and comments are more than welcome!

 

* * *

 

_Thursday, 3rd December, 2009_

The night over Tokyo was unusually starry that evening.

Body tense and aching after a whole day of classes, Lotte still enjoyed how dazzling the stars were, strewn over the sky that every other evening would turn dull violet. Today it looked clear though, navy and deep green in colour. It made her feel rather tiny underneath all its extravagant recesses and she felt her head swimming, suddenly aware that her nose got runny again as well. She tried to wipe it with the rim of her scarf discretely.

The young woman let a small cloud form with each released breath, in tact with the impatient tapping of her foot against the concrete surface. The train she was waiting for would be late, it seemed. Frustrated, she shifted on her foot and plucked the music player from her bag to try and kill some time.

Bothersome as it was, Tokyo was too huge to forgo public communication altogether. Used to living in less sprawling cities in the past, Lotte begrudgingly resigned herself to commuting from the 4th ward to 20th ward, where her university was, five days in a week. It was effective and relatively _safe_ as well.

Paying a sideways glance to the newspaper the woman to her left held open, she could make out a headline pointing out to the recent spike in ghoul attacks all over Tokyo's special wards. Even with how imperfect her knowledge of Japanese was, she couldn’t help but notice how often these alarming news tended to pop all over the news-stands, through the brief period since coming to Japan in June.

Under no pretences these were scary circumstances to live in. Ghouls weren’t unknown in other parts of the world, especially Germany was home to surprisingly vast number of their species. But in places like France or USA they laid low, assuming the lifestyle of scavengers rather than predators. _And_ _ _th__ _e USA were_ _a_ _special case altogether_ , the woman thought with a wry smile.

Though early December weather didn’t make it necessary yet, Lotte wore a heavy parka outside at all times now, complete with a beanie, and all the wintry accessories that were supposed to keep the recent fever spells plaguing her at bay. They didn’t help much though, and the thought of another night spent binging on Panadol didn’t look promising.

Sparing a cursory glance around her, she noted that many city residents took to wearing surgical masks. Making a mental note to buy one for herself, Lotte braced herself for the incoming train, signalled appropriately earlier.

More and more people surrounded her now, and the woman hastened to once again hid her lower face in the voluminous scarf securely wrapped around her neck. A bevy of highschoolers nearby emitted a deliciously fresh scent that promised to her an unspoiled meal, and the woman quickly retracted her gaze; she felt guilty now.

The line crossing the Shinjuku station was always crowded, though the later the hour, the less people would be generally found, even in the subway. That was very beneficial for someone like her. And perhaps that _other guy_.

She let out a deep breath then, a pleasant surge of excitement pulsating through her veins. Now _that_ was something she was eagerly waiting for. Though feeling a bit disconnected from her surroundings lately, Lotte could still gather her thoughts and concentrate enough _to_ check the guy out on their commute, sleepy haze muddling her head silly or not.

She was anxious to take a seat in one of the last wagons, where he would usually seat, commuting from Shinjuku onwards. Impatiently slicing through the evening crowd, the tall woman provoked some displeased stares here and there, as she attempted to make her way with some difficulty.

 _It wasn't like there was much to_ _ogle at_ _anyway_ , she thought with some exasperation. If Lotte attempted to conceal her face both to ward off unwanted attention and to keep healthy, he seemed to follow just some odd style pattern of his. It was hard to even get a good look at his face, since his eyes were at all times hidden behind thick black glasses, even at night.

Such was Tokyo, people could look super unusual and no one would show that they gave a damn. „S _eriously though,_ _glasses on,_ _all the time”_ , Lotte found herself grumbling, as it turned out,aloud, drawing some unwanted attraction complete with raised brows from few bleary-eyed salarymen in close vicinity of where she entered.

Her cheeks still burned, both from shame and the cold, when Lotte finally managed to find a vacant seat. Opening a copy of Tokyo Baedeker to a dreary task of memorizing the rough outline of her new city and its main hallmarks, she didn’t look up until the sounds of ever busy Shinjuku Station broke her somewhat focused state.

Realizing that the music stopped playing somewhere between the stations, Lotte tried to fish her music player from the oversized bag, packed to the brim with all the textbooks required at her university course. Finally finding what she looked for, she stole a closer look at the people who were taking seats nearby just now.

 _He wasn't there_ , she thought after some discreet examination. And it was damn good that he wasn't, because a coughing fit that was waiting to happen the whole damn day just chose to manifest itself, in all its wet and painful glory. Ashamed, Lotte dearly wished for the surgical mask now, as some people stared at her disapprovingly; their attention never became outright rude however and she was thankful for this.

 _Maker, make me vanish now_ , she thought with chagrin. She spent the rest of her journey painfully aware of her rapidly developing cold and counting minutes before she could chug an entire bottle of her medicine before trying to study for the next day’s seminar.

To add to this, she could decidedly feel something sharp starting to bloom inside of her throat all the way up to the oesophagus. _An her gums started to hurt again_.

* * *

 

Lotte was still recovering from the severity of her attack, even after she had left the station some time before on her way home. _Home_ was the place where she could finally cocoon herself besides her dog and feel somewhat safe, if not entirely stable.

And as her wobbly legs took her along the well memorized path towards the decidedly less glamorous area of Yoyogi where she lived, something behind her made Lotte suddenly aware that there was _someone else_ nearby, keeping to the shadows that the area, replete with derelict industrial remains, provided generously here.

No sounds were coming to her, save the delicate rustling of some dried up leaves moved about by the wind; leftovers that were yet to be swept up by the communal services. If anybody asked Lotte what the matter was all of the sudden, they would probably laugh at her mentioning the general aura of the place. But something _was_ there.

All coiled up inside and discretely readying herself for an eventual attack, Lotte nevertheless felt weirdly titillated at the same time. _Could this be a_ _ _ghoul__ _ _at last__ _ _?__ _,_ _she thought and remembered that she had yet to eat anything that evening. With stomach grumbling audibly and still a bit dizzy, she probably wouldn’t be able to defend herself effectively._

Resisting the pull to just confront whoever had just been following her, Lotte kept on walking. She treaded cautiously from then on, above all trying to calm her erratic heartbeat; its constant pitter-patter against her ribcage felt deconcentrating now.

The rhythmic tapping of shoes against concrete pavement slowed down and finnally ceased altogether as the girl finally stopped and turned around fully, taking in the whole surrounding area.

 _What the fuck-,_ she thought, glancing behind and finding _nothing_ in the immediate vicinity. There was _no one_ _there_. Or rather, whoever had happened to walk behind her _with th_ _at_ _kind of_ _aura_ _had_ just turned around the corner or somehow otherwise vanished.

The streets around her were virtually deserted now, and where the broken lampshade cast a shadow in front of her, Lotte could discern two bright points fixated on her – clearly, a pair of cat’s eyes. Allowing her excitation to die away, the woman kept at straining her hearing anyway, but it was silent everywhere now, except for maybe the usual sounds of a sleepy neighbourhood in any big city. What had been there before, now seemed to have vanished.

Looking for any suspicious activity for the rest of her walk home, Lotte reasoned to h _er_ _self that her_ _reaction_ _before_ could simply be a testament to her earlier days, when a scent of danger carried also the inevitable pleasure of a full stomach and calmness of mind that came with it. Back in the beginning, her sense of smell was no small pride of hers.

And she was sure she had smelled something there - a faint, coppery residue that was no longer as potent as when fresh. Recognizing what that scent had been, she became suddenly and painfully aware of her own hunger and promptly decided to head back home, prepared for a sudden attack but also not wishing to engage _anyone_ , should their intentions weren't outright hostile. After all, she knew better - her skills became somewhat rusty during her _paid leave_ in Japan's capital.

Above all, it wasn't as if she was a p _ro fighter_ _yet._ _Her superiors would advise caution here, Lotte knew._ So, the bag a heavy burden on her left arm, she made for a quick sprint without looking back, and stopped only when she found herself at _home_. The pebbles on her courtyard scrunched under her heavy boots as she pried the door open, and Lotte covered the remaining flight of stairs in haste; better hide herself where it was safe.

* * *

 

At home, the first thing that came to her mind after she undressed, was to check the fax for the message from the organization, sponsoring her stay there. Only then, as she immediately busied herself with preparing the food for her dog, had Lotte some time to try and calm down. Try as she might, aside from being bone-weary, she had some tough time accepting the fact that she might have just been stalked by some sinister presence, that close to home.

She portioned the meat with quivering hands, the tips of her fingers a little uncooperative and cold. A migraine was rapidly approaching, and the woman reached for the bottle of Panadol with her hands still covered in grease, chugging it all in few gulps. The prospect of studying before going to bed started looking grim now.

There was no time to sulk, anyway. There waited a comfy pair of sweatpants to wear, sneakers to slip into and a dog, immensely eager for a walk. Lotte was feeling slightly more composed again, now that her head had cooled off a bit. Grabbing her dog's leash and realizing that the keys were still probably in the door lock, she headed into the dark corridor just outside her living quarters, headphones on and the soft padding of her shoes the only sound in the building.

* * *

The walls of the alleyway were covered with grime. Half torn leaflets littering the ground and sun bleached posters advertised things long gone. Night attracted all kinds of dubious characters, and it didn't help that his studio happened to be located in Kabukicho, a home to all kinds of establishments catering to all known fetishes and then some.

Crowds were always starting to form by the time he closed his shop, and on every other occasion Uta would be likely to a avoid them in favour of some quieter route to get home, one less teeming with _humans_. But as it happened, when Kabukicho was concerned, most of these people weren't exactly keen on being seen themselves, so eye contact and scrutinizing anything or anyone was simply not how things were done here.

In a way, those mobbed streets offered privacy far greater than any quieter detour he might have chosen. It served his purpose of moving around as unnoticed as possible quite well. Its lonelier and darker streets were also an excellent place to stalk one's prey when it came to feeding - the high rate of crime associated with those regions made it easier altogether to snag someone quickly and devour their finest parts in some quiet corner where nobody could see him. It _was,_ _above all,_ _convenient_.

Currently, however, Uta was fully satiated. With swift way back home in mind, he effortlessly navigated through crowds. All those hollow faced men - vaguely embarrassed for craving something as natural as physical gratification they couldn't get any other way - made him eye them with a mixture of pity and subtle disgust. Ghouls were much less apologetic when it came to mating, and such things as repressed guilt from their trysts were a rarity. _That didn't mean they were unheard of,_ he thought and immediately choose to cut his musings short as they began to take him to places he'd rather not visit tonight. Or never, as it was.

And it was a beautiful night, that was sure. Not a cloud on the unusually clear sky, with multitude of stars all over it. The drawbacks of December's chilly weather fell short on the male ghoul, as his hardened skin wasn't prone to biting gusts of cold air. The only reason he wore weather appropriate clothes was to blend in, and also to conceal his appearance as much as possible, starting with the tattoos.

Adjusting his scarf, his eyes fell back on the pavement, taking him through the well known streets, all the way to the metro station. It was half past ten, not the usual hour he was coming back home now; tonight he chose to work on his newest design a bit longer instead of taking it home. An extra effort certainly paid off, and now a finished design rested in its case, ready for tomorrow. It was a sleek design, something he was quite proud to have made, demanding as it was.

It was a casual stroll from the metro onwards, headphones on his ears and mind wandering in all places that held some interest for him. He was supposed to meet with Yomo at Itori's tomorrow night, just a casual night of socializing with friends. A mask to make till the end of the week, and for the first human customer to come to his shop in a long time at that-

An unruly ghoul to find and eliminate, _the sooner the better_. A main reason for his temporary move to Yoyogi, Uta had Itori to thank for enlisting his reluctant help in this matter-

Come to think of it, there was something in the air that made him think about that _right then_. A lingering scent he’d picked up on the last lane leading to a betaen pathway that wounded through the decrepit industrial buildings, all the way to where his apartment was located.

It was not that puzzling why he would find this particular scent here. After all, the cluster of buildings he occupied was rather uninhabited one. Excluding the woman living opposite him, there was no one who lived there. People of all sorts frequented them, though. The other buildings didn't have sturdy locks on their doors and therefore seen many rebellious teenagers doing all kinds of teenage stuff, ones he didn't have patience to even roll his eyes at, much less to react to in any way.

A perfect place to stage a murder. Or rather, _a dinner, as should be understood._

The events of last month haven't escaped his notice. No ghoul in their ward would do something like that. Sure, the area was hard to live in, by some standards uninhabitable nowadays. It has certainly changed ever since his days as a peacemaker. But the change meant something entirely different for humans and ghouls altogether. While becoming supposedly _safer_ for humans, it shrinked ghoul's feeding possibilities dramatically, reducing them to cannibalism even.

All the stranger that there was someone, anyone, who dared to step on the turf, the situation strained as it was, and kill a janitor, on school's ground of any places. It was unthinkable by common standards, and the consequences would be dire, for now the CCG's eyes were squarely trained on their ward and had the usually dormant 4 Ward's Branch Office scrambling for outside support. If continued, the fragile balance enabled by the continued effort of the more level-head ghouls of the region would be broken, and some heads would fly in the process.

And as tempting as this prospect looked, _right now_ that simply wouldn't do.

It took Uta admittedly some time to find all the places the culprit chose as his feeding grounds, especially since he wasn't a peacemaker now and simply didn't have any resources to spare besides his own on this one. But he would be able to pinpoint the location of its newest kill with relative ease, especially after today's confirmation. Repeated incidents where he was able to literally sniff the other's way through the neighbourhood would assure him of that. All that was left was to lie and wait, and he was quite good at that. And as soon as the scent appeared again, he would strike, efficiently and with no droplet of blood left afterwards.

That is, only if his sickly neighbour wouldn't make any unwanted appearance. Snapping her neck would be just a _waste_.

He finally approached his doors, his heavy military boots scrunching on the pretty pebbles the small backyard was strewn with ever since she moved in. The guy she came with back then certainly spared no effort to make her feel at home, arranging a freaking landscaping company to accommodate the scenery to her liking. Pity he didn't know that the building next to her was, in fact, inhabited, and by a _ghoul_ no less. Maybe he wouldn't leave then.

 _But what difference would_ _it_ _make, if he had it in him to make her his new meal?_.

He hoped she wouldn't cross his way tomorrow, that was for sure.

* * *

The air outside was unforgiving, changing from pleasantly chilly to bitingly cold in just a few moments she spent at her apartment, and as Lotte made her way through the small park located nearby, she felt her teeth positively clatter. Chilly atmosphere quickly made her hungry and lusting for something, anything really, to eat. And what with that _vibe_ all over the place.

Perhaps it was thanks to the general emptiness of the streets around her or maybe the recent news of the bloody happenings in the ward and the earlier scare – no matter the reason, instead of the usual daydreaming, Lotte made an extra effort of minding her surroundings for the duration of the walk. She held to her keys extra hard; attached to them were a rape whistle and something that looked like a syringe strapped to a keychain – nothing too helpful.

One couldn't forget about the ghouls after all. Fourth ward with its proximity to the first one, remained a safe, even _docile_ , one. Still, incidents happened. Like that one from the last month. The rumour, whispered to her by a friendly shopkeeper over some fresh cabbage case on the vegetable stall, had it that the body of a janitor from a school nearby had been found on its premises, torn and shredded to pieces, literally.

Local authorities suspected some passing stray ghoul, venturing outside his or her own turf. Still, the thought of such thing happening in one of the safest wards was unnerving, especially since the alleged ghoul hunted on school premises. Naturally, concerns about schoolchildren arose, and the local Board of Education had been literally flooded with complaints by concerned parents, questioning the ability of officials to effectively deal with this _ghoul problem_.

The vegetable seller, whose wrinkled face made it hard to make out the outline of her eyes, seemed to be more excited than genuinely scared, happy to be able to pass on this piece of juicy story with all its gory details, and in some twisted way bond over it with her new client, their shaky understanding of Japanese notwithstanding.

And as she made her way back home on that day, armed with bags of fresh produce and knowledge about recent morbid happenings in the ward, Lotte remembered feeling rather jittery herself. After all, back then ghouls meant everything but scary to her. All the stranger that she actually was afraid now, to the point of carrying those idiotic gadgets with her keys.

It was so ridiculous she actually laughed, a short and dry sound, more morbid than happy. The reverberation, eerily loud in a deserted strip of the backstreet they were walking on, made Berg actually stop in her tracks and stare at her owner as if she was something very nasty. She also looked like she had enough of their stroll for now.

Hastening to go all the way back and eager for some noodles, Lotte turned on her heel and made a beeline for home. The grounds surrounding the building she occupied seemed hauntingly silent and even more deserted than the streets around it, the other farther situated structures in an even worse state of decay.

It was silent around her house; no teenagers to be found trying to get inside her building, as had happened a few times before. They usually had her feeling more exasperated than scared, but she feared fr their safety now above else. Nowadays, most people were urged to stay home after dark.

The doors creaked loudly as she stepped in, a wave of stolid air hitting her face immediately. Once again forgoing any attempts at lighting the huge lamps left after the previous establishment, a factory of sorts, she entered a vast space of concrete wasteland. Littered with rubble and debris of various sort, it showed that absolutely no attempts at making it habitable besides rudimentary had been made. First two floors were just like that, empty, sans few sculptures left in random places and ostensibly neglected. An odd rug or two complemented the image of a job undone.

Long streaks of moonlight filtered through the seemingly endless row of high windows, highlighting the thick layer of dust that had settled on the ground ever since Lotte moved in, and was never properly removed.

The girl kept walking up the stairs, paying neither the artworks nor the displaced antique rugs any mind. On third floor, a new pair of doors were erected, its solid structure betraying their main function. The dark corridor behind them led to the only place that was somewhat furnished, and besides the comfy rooftop, the only one ever used.

Even now, after she kicked off her shoes and moved to change into some comfortable home wear, her steps took her straight onto the rooftop. It wasn't perhaps too late for some additional reading for tomorrow's seminar

 

 

522

606


	2. Food for thought (revised)

  
Chapter 2  
Food for thought  
A/N revised and cleaned chapter 2 – I’ve added some new scenes and deleted some others. Sometimes less is more I discovered :p

  
„Have you heard about that last attack in Nerima?”

  
„Yeah, people say that when the Police found her, there was nothing left of her face-”

  
„Gross!”

  
Two first year students were crossing the courtyard, chatting animatedly, observed by one of the three young women seated at a table nearby. Draped languorously over the tabletop, she chewed her chicken on a stick with studied nonchalance. Her companions had just been discussing dreams and she had something to chime in;

  
„Tonight, I dreamed about Patrick Bateman eating me out," - she declared, motioning with her drumstick for an added effect - „- and he literally ate me whole then. Piece by piece”.

  
„Still better than vomiting teeth though, Michiru-”, another girl quipped, „-oh, thanks for the coffee, Lotte”, she said and took a cup from the newcomer. It bathed her face in puffy clouds of steam; the students were determined to get as much rest as possible before the classes started.

  
The weather was beautiful that morning: dry and sunny, no threat of snow yet. Even the tables at the uni’s' caffeteria have been pulled outside and into the courtyard, something that usually wouldn’t happen well until April or May. Still, the crispy air called for something hot to drink. The friends huddled around the table, their textbooks and food strewn all over it.

  
„You know, for a second thought, I kinda wish he did me, too", added Misaki dreamily as an afterthought; her chin rested on a particulary thick volume whose title read with bold lettering THE MECHATRONICS HANDBOOK, Second Edition. The girl, already clad in her lab attire, kept lazily chewing on one last pocky left in a package they all had shared earlier on.

  
She cast a glance towards her left, where a mass of jumbled hair suggested the presence of their last companion, a very tired one Tanaka, Sachiko: first year student of pharmaceutics. Even with a subject that taxing, Sachiko seemed to be a poster child for a tired cliche of Japanese overworking themselves to their premature deaths; she was quite proud of it, she often told them.

  
„Tanaka told us she kept vomiting teeth in her dream;”, Misako informed Lotte, ”She’s actually troubled about it, please tell her there’s nothing to be concerned for”.

  
Lotte didn’t have problems with reassuring her friend. That she had actually coughed up one of her teeth that morning, she kept silent about.

* * *

It was well beyond the deadline for their classess, and a short discussion led them to the rebellious decision to skip them altogether and head o Yoyogi, to spend some lazy afternoon at Lotte's place and see her newest sculptures.

  
Sachiko had excused herself a while before, intent on hammering as much knowledge as she could muster in the library nearby. As the rest of them hurried towards the metro station, they noticed part of the street was cordoned off by the Police. Dispatch cars and an ambulance were there as well, and Michiru tiptoed to see what had happened.

  
„Michiru, what’s out there?”, Misaki asked, trying to jump and see anything for herself from behind someone’s back; her platform shoes weren’t high enough to allow for a clear view. Lotte turned her face away; she had already smelled blood and wanted out of there, immediately. She dearly wished she had eaten something that morning, anything, instead of dozing off extra time.

  
Michiru finally managed to weave her way towards the police tape and motioned for the two girls to follow her. The throng loosened where they stood and they saw forensic team already busy with work. Misaki stood next to Lotte in silence as they appraised the scene before, and the girls exchanged brief, grim glances.

  
„Another one on this street in just two days”, Michiru whispered, her eyes transfixed on a bulky shape laying on the stretcher, shrouded in black body bag.

They observed the forensics for a while and Michiru seemed to grow tired of the silence. She turned to them and with crooked smile pronounced-  
„Well, let’s hope that at least the ghoul had a good meal.”

* * *

 

The girls made the rest of their way in haste, the city suddenly unfriendly and vast. During the metro ride Misaki spilled her coffee on a passenger nearby and by the time they made it out from the station, the girls were agitated and flushed. Their moods didn’t lift up well until Lotte had served tea and cake on the rooftop.

  
„Ugh, we could’ve just as well stayed at the uni,” Michiru grumbled. She played with a loose strand of her hair, examinig its frayed edges with a frown, „Maybe they would manage to tidy up after all that happened, before we went home”.

  
„Can’t disagree with that.”, Lotte added from where she was sprawled on one of the two sofas they sat on. It took some time to get them out of the utility shed, but it beat sitting inside definitely.

  
Afternoon's sunlight bathed the whole terrace in a kind of russet gold and a pleasant breeze ruffled their hair. The spicy beverage they drank was piping hot, and the cake Lotte bought in a bistro nearby was finished in no time; from her place curled up next to Misaki, Berg energetically licked the delicate china plate clean.

  
It was quiet around Lotte’s building and no teenagers were to be found partying in the less guarded buildings in the district. Isolated from the closest neighours, the only other place nearby was a residential complex awaiting its demolition. It was placid, something entirely alien to Lotte who had always associated city living with stress and chaos.

  
Misaki was sitting cross legged beside Lotte; the hostess hung upside down the sofa, her hair sprawled on the ground, a slight dizziness starting to form in her head. Berg was lying wedged between them, the idle atmosphere causing her to doze off immediately.

 

_I would very much like for life to always be this peaceful-_

  
_„_ Is this a canvas...?" Michiru had been rummaging through the utility shed for some time now. Finding a huge object under some dirty sheets, it was only natural for her curious nature to simply unveil the mystery.

  
„Yep", Lotte grimaced a bit, „It's a copy though. Rothko looks nice on the walls".

  
„Not much anywhere else, really" Misaki remarked offhandedly, never being the one to appreciate modern art. Michiru laughed at Lotte's grunt of dissaproval and draped the cover around the half-finished painting. It would later grace the seemingly endless walls all around the building, the lengthy parade of depressing, largely monochromatic pieces lending some eerie charm to the whole place.

  
„And the sculptures around the house, you’ve made all those too?" Misaki inquired, standing up and coming up to the aged stereo across the rooftop. After a while, mellow, smoky tunes could be heard from the studio. Picking up the small figurine in the shape of a horse from the desk, she pointed at it, drawing Lotte's attention to the place she was standing.

  
„Only the smaller ones. Look how ridiculous they are.”; the woman took the horse from her friend delicately, and found herself wondering where the head and the butt were. ”But it's relaxing to shape them, I think,”, she continued and Misaki agreed; she took up bonsai trees shaping way back in school and had managed to build up quite impressive skillset already.

  
„Yeah, if you get the gist of, like, basic sculpting techniques, you’ll make some really cool stuff eventually, the way Michiru does", Misaki said and informed her that she probably knew where the horse’s head was.

  
Lotte sighed; on the one hand, she felt motivated to pick up her work where she’d left it. What bothered her though was how soon she would have to stop again. Harder materials would be a drag from the get go, considering her worsened conditon; but clay or plaster should do just fine for a time being.  
As long as she had fingers, that is.

A pained grimace crept on her face and she had to reassure herself she still had those few months before everything started. Plenty of time to teach herself sculpting more realistically, instead of those fleshy, bulbous creations that littered lower grounds of the building below.

  
„Yep, I'm sure that's doable" agreed Michiru from behind her, coming to stand next to them. „Be sure to work systematically though, you keep neglecting things out of laziness and that won't do anymore".

  
She didn't have the slightest idea how true her words were.

* * *

 

It was well after 10 pm when Lotte walked her friends to the cab parked nearby. Neither Michiru nor Misaki would allow her to walk them home, and she didn’t want them to walk on their own. Apparently, the Fourth was somewhat gentler than the rest of the wards, but it was still a far cry from the first three; lots of accidents happened here – it was better not to wander about alone.

  
The headlights of the leaving car flooded the courtyard with blazing light and the breeze from before gained strength. Lotte stood in place till the car vanished from view, the wind playing with her hair. She had been feeling hungry for a while now, and entertained the thought of visiting one of the gourmet butcher shops that had recently sprung up in Yoyogi, as more and more people moved in there. And being a young lady in dire need of bloody sustenance, getting an array of big and fat slabs of beef in Tokyo wasn’t a problem.

  
Expertly navigating the winding streets leading back to her place an hour later (this wasn't the first time steaks haunted her on this hour), Lotte let her mind wander, her boots tapping on the ground as she put even, broad strides to the ground. It was getting late, her normal time for studying fastly passing by. It also got decidedly colder.

  
Gradually, the streets got more empty and narrower. She was entering the part of Yoyogi that had decidedly less glamorous appeal. Incidents of human crime happened there sometimes, and it was always prudent to remain vigilant around here. Some street lamps were not functioning properly, the row of lights lining the now totally deserted streets punctuated by darker dots.

  
Lotte wouldn't be scared of humans – snapping a neck would be no more difficult than breaking a pocky stick in two. Ghouls were entirely different thing however. Their skin almost impenetrable, you would have to resort to chemical agents to break through it-

  
It happened in a small yard between decrepit buildings which used to be a residential block in the past. Lotte liked to come here with Berg from time to time. It was always calm around there, the signs put by the local municipality warning about impending demolition dotting the walls around her. Not many people had a reason to go there and until the ground would be reclaimed and maybe a new school erected, not many would ever come. It turned out, however, that somebody was there. Lotte stopped dead in her tracks, the scent she had a vague rememberance of causing her to sniff the air greedily. It smelled like a very nutritious food. Precisely the food she'd been told to pursue.

  
„Picture getting a broad here of all the places". A hoarse, raspy voice belonging to a young male somewhere above her alerted the girl to the danger. Such words were never a sign of anything good, anyway. Attuning her vision and searching for the possible attacker, Lotte's eyes fall on the silhouette balancing on the steely bar protruding from one of the walls. He wasn't neccessarily trying to hide himself from her, it seemed.

  
„You confident in having anything here?". She knew she should have been running away already. After all she's never amassed that much practice regarding facing a ghoul. But she was quite young for her kind, and possibly not in her rght mind due to the illnes, and especially overall lack of proficiency had never deterred her before.

  
Before she started decomposing, that is.

  
No time to spare, though, it seemed, as the ghoul pounced on her, his body mass easily overpowering hers. Landing on a ground with a dull thud, the grocery bags she had been gripping up until this point scattered around them.

  
„I will eat you piece by piece" the man, whose face was obscured by malfunctioning street lights, drawled, gripping her hands and twisting her wrists painfully. „I will start from your arms, then your legs, so you'll be fully aware when I start pulling your entrail-".

  
He never got to envisioning his feast to her in full. A powerful kick send him reeling behind. It was a nightmarish pressure to withstand in her shape, but if she didn't want to end up as a source of meat and organs to be harvested, Lotte had to act. And quickly so, time was a foe here.

  
Getting on her feet and hastily shedding her parka for better agility, Lotte managed to nimbly evade the kagune he sent in her direction so fast that she barely managed to register it; a rinkaku user, no doubt, the one excelling in brute strength. It had to be dealt with quickly, preferably in a close combat. But how do you approach somebody who is capable of dealing you a barrage of strikes so strong, they have you wheezing while trying to catch your breath?

  
A rinkaku user had to be somehow tired for the force of his attack to lessen. Not wanting to waste her precious strength, it was up to Lotte's agility to try and wear this particular attacker down.

  
And good luck with that. He got to her faster than she managed to jump on the roof. Seeing his eyes maddened by hunger, the all black sclera dotted with vivid red a testament to its carnivorous nature, made Lotte serious. Bracing herself for the impact of his strike, her hands shooting in his direction with rapid swiftness, the girl finally managed to grip his neck.

  
„And we're home, finally" she panted, her eyes fixed on his hungry ones, the sweat trickling on her temples, the tips of her fingers white from the exertion. The goul's skin was practically impenetrable. Trying to tear it would be a foolishness for a youngling like her, however she wasn't entirely helpless in this situation. There was a reason Leonard had her carrying around the special little syringe hidden in the pocket of her jacket all the time. Now was the time to use it.

  
Delivering a sharp hit to the side of his neck and making it as forcefull as she could muster, she took her other hand and thrusted the needle straight into his membrane. A scream that followed could alarm half of the neighborhood, if only there were any people living nearby. As it was, there was no one to witness the male ghoul sway on his legs, his momentary lose of balance leaving a wide opening to end things then and there.

  
To hell with that.

  
It was a testament to her acquired skills that she managed to pry his carotid artery open with relative ease, now that his skin was akin to human's. Suppressing the urge to latch into it and suck him dry, Lotte dug her nails deeper, eliciting a pained shriek on the ghoul's side. The empty syringe was now lying empty on the ground, a single drop of blood on its pointy end.

  
Hearing his pained howling was immensely satisfying, she had to admit against her best wishes. It made her warm and fuzzy inside, all this suffering that was undeniably well justified. Their eyes met, her amused albeit a bit unfocused one with one that was in a frenzy of pain. He had to be quite young, she thought. All the more surprising considering his relative battle experience. Pity that he had to meet one higher up in the food chain.

  
His kagune now a bloody mess, it dangled limply on both his sides, no longer dangerous or life threatening, or so she thought. Feeling a surge of euphoria, Lotte braced herself for final strike. Before she was able to deliver it however, she was struck so powerfully in her head, she had to dug her heels deep into the ground in order not to collapse under the sheer force of it.

  
Clutching her temples and spitting blood, she lost her grip on man's neck. What the fuck?, she thought, an unpleasant ringing in her ears rendering her momentarily helpless. It was as if his impending demise stirred something in the man, for he put up a fierce fight not to end up shredded to pieces. Taking advantage of Lotte's losing her momentum, he swung his kagune at her in hopes of swiftly beheading her and perhaps retiring to safety, to lick his wounds before any further damage could be rendered.

  
Maybe he would stand some chance, she thought. If she was a human, that is. Hitting her neck with a sickening sound, all his kagune managed to do was to scratch the fine skin under her collarbone, as the girl tried to grip it with both her palms. It hurt like hell, the shifty organ serrating the delicate skin underneath. Crying out in pain, Lotte made one last effort and pulled his body in both sides, the claws that were sinked in a ghoul's flesh promptly painted red.

  
A splash of blood followed, displaced organs gracing the dirty ground. Moving very fast and happy to at least stay somewhat agile, Lotte managed to hop back few paces, enough not to be showered with the liquid red that pooled quickly around the falling corpse.

  
The body, severed neatly into the two parts, fell to the ground with a thud, followed promptly with a sickening squelch of flesh mangled with broken bones. A minced pie, encased in something similar to human's skin.

  
It looked dangerously like a meal to her now.

* * *

  
It was disgusting, but also enticing, Lotte thought, prodding the ghoul's remains with the tip of her finger. Her mind, despite the numb pain her body suffered, already wandering to the things she had to do next. Bothering with cleaning up wouldn't make sense. In a city infested by ghouls the context was all too obvious. No reason to make her hands dirtier than they already were, beyond absolute necessary.

  
Scraping her knees on the ground while trying to pick up the empty syringe, Lotte felt dizzy. Sweat glistened on her face and neck, and the girl grimaced ungainly. She already felt soiled by what she’d done as it was. On the other hand, she was really hungry that evening, and clearly not in complete control of her actions. What’s a ruined pair of jeans compared to life time of regret?

  
Wiping off the streak of dried blood from the corners of her lips, Lotte removed herself from the dead body. All heavy breath and aching bones, the girl swayed to where the dead-end street was blocked with wired net fence, tightly securing her wound with her scarf and picking her jacketon the way.

  
At first she didn't want for this to turn out the way it did. The plans for the evening involved two huge rib-eye steaks that still laid on the pavement, their vivid red colour bleeding through the transparent plastic bag; and a feast of certainly different kind. Now with all the appetite left her, though Lotte was determined to make herself eat them. I shelled so much for this shit, it would be a waste, she thought bitterly.

  
Picking up the sad remnants of her shopping bags, and wincing from pain that radiated from her strained arms and scraped knees, she gave the crime scene a good once-over. The body looked terrible, barely recognizable of its previous shape. Queasy, Lotte turned her head.

  
To her knowledge, there had been no witnesses to what she had done neither before nor afterwards. Her senses, attuned to everything outside her to the point it hurt, alerted her to nothing, save a little yellowish lizard, scurrying through the small patch of grass that grew just to the left of the corpse's leg. Lotte observed the critter till it hid behind the dumpster, and decided it was time to go. The police might want to question her later on – _better prepare herself, mabe call Leonard-_

  
It was relatively easy to flee the place afterwards, just jump over the fence and jog for a few meters through another grassy patch, ignoring the pain that bloomed all across her body magnificently; then cross the bridge and blend in. That was something she was gradually becoming better at.

* * *

 

It was half past eleven when he made it to the decrepit industrial building where he lived. It was later than initially planned, but such was the case with Itori – always thinking up the excuses to keep her friends around a bit longer.

  
No sign of his intended prey either, even though usually this was the time previous incidents involving this one happened. That person was scrupulous to the point of priggishness, which he had to admire being a perfectionist himself. And yet there was no one nearby, that was for sure. What was inconvenient however was that his neighbor wasn't around either.

  
Having seen the young woman living across him maybe a couple times before, her life of a normal student hardly ever merited his interest, and he mused to himself in a sudden feat of benevolence that it was perhaps better if it stayed that way.

  
As it happened, luck wasn't on his side tonight, apparently.

  
Ghoul senses were sharp, sharper than that of the ordinary human and it wasn’t that dificult to make out the cautious, purposefully muffled steps coming not from afar. The scent of perfumes hit Uta next - a feeble attempt to mask the feverish smell of illnes he recognized from their metro rides before.

  
Either way, as he stood with the key halfway turned in the lock, the light that came from all the porch lights on her building walls behind him leaving his face in shadow, the scrunching sound of boots on the pebbles became more noticeable with each deliberate step she took. His neighbour was coming.  
It was the time, perhaps, to greet her properly.

  
It wasn't long before the woman appeared in a circle of light. First came her one spindly calf, her feet clad in heavy military boots, then a thigh showed up, a bit on the thick side, and then the rest followed; the woman was limping badly and the ghoul noticed her shredded jeans right away. He smemmel a faint trace of blood as well; it made him suddenly a bit agitated.

  
She was a meal packed a bit too tight, was the first thing Uta thought and discarded, after some curious deliberation. In need of rest, he decided that introducing himself in a neutral, casual way – the way normal people did it – certainly wouldn't hurt.

  
As it seemed, however, his unwanted companion had different intentions. Acting as if she had noticed him just then, she gave him a noncomittal nod and standard „good evening" in a slightly botched Japanese, and simply turned around, neither expecting him to introduce himself nor clearly wanting to do so herself. She seemed anxious to get home - _was she afraid of him?_ That would be hilarious.

  
With a greeting partially frozen on his lips, he stared at her with one raised eyebrow shooting above his glasses and various jumbled thoughts about general rules of conduct for modern girls speeding through his brain. Pondering mimicking her peculiar indifference and turning around with minimal shrug of his shoulders, he was promptly stopped in his tracks, his one feet already in soothing darkness of his empty premises but head shooting involuntarily back.

  
He was sure he had smelled some other ghoul’s blood on her now as well.

* * *

Nothing went as planned.

  
Small, red dots bloomed on Lotte’s pallid features, creased in a frenzy of rushed thinking, as she struggled with unbolting the sturdy locks to her place – she didn’t want to socialize just then. The man was still standing behind, probably thinking she was utterly disrespectful. She had just murdered a ghoul, god damn it, she had different things on her mind right now than pleasantries.

  
That was when she heard it. Barely audible for human senses, Lotte was sure she heard a distinct sound of someone inhaling something. She almost dropped her keys then. What gave her away-? Blood kept seeping from the wounds on her neck and hands, and Lotte feared they would smudge the keys. Worse yet, could the blood be that easy to smell?

  
How-

  
Following the sound, a crushing aura hit her next – the person standing behind was clearly inhuman and clearly at their prime,and possibly not friendly at all. But, a human wasn't supposed to feel this.

  
Perhaps letting slip its dangerous implications would assure the man standing behind her that she was merely a sickly girl, the blood on her fingers aresult of ordinary tripping incident or something. Acting hostile simply wouldn't do, due to the painful lack of resources on her side for now.

* * *

 

If there had been any ways of omitting the hard way, he would have gladly chosen them, if only for not being in the mood tonight.

  
Uta's attention was fixed on the girl, his initial, if slightly panicked, outburst dying down and sober thoughts taking its place. After all, killing a ghoul didn't warrant a bloody retaliation in itself, however empty this sentence sounded to him. Whatever her reasons were, they didn't necessarily merit any action on his part.

  
Just as he decided to let it drop and instead watch her quietly for a time being before taking any steps, she made a full turn, the words on her mouth well rounded and betraying nary an emotion, a casual and inquiring tone to them. „Excuse me, do you need somethin-"

  
The sentence was cut off abruptly, her voice, initially calm and quite firm, ended with a decidedly girlish yelp. That was an interesting development. As the girl finally took him in, a deep red bloomed on her features. Forgoing all attempts of cohesive communication, the girl just blurted out something about tripping and making her all bloody mess - hurting like hell and being sorry if she scared him and other things like that, followed promptly by a hasty bow and speedy retreat into her own building, not to be seen tonight again, that much was sure.

  
„Now that was strange" he whispered to himself, to his own surprise more amused than anything else, as he was making his way to the apartment in the attic. It would seem there wouldn't be any shortage of interesting things to please him around here.

* * *

 

Lotte was, admittedly, quite scared. As she ran to her own quarters with the speed she wasn't able to muster from her weary legs lately, thoughts of possible fight were blazingthrough her head. In all probability, she wouldn’t stand a chance again.

  
Seizing the door-handle, Lotte pushed it forcefully, locking the doors immediately after. Berg came to her side, alarmed by her wheezing, and was standing not far from her, sniffing the abandoned steaks with interest. The blood began to seep through, and she didn't have any problems with pulling the plastic apart and downing one of them in few gulps. Lotte watched her with sort of detachment, her own need of nutrition suddenly forgotten. It was more out of mechanical habit, than real adherence to the prescribed ways, when she took the remaining chunk of meat that Berg hadn't made use of yet, and just ate it on the spot, vivid red soaking her chin in broad streaks.

  
The sticky, cool liquid trickled down her throat and the girl leaned back on the wall languorously, all of her muscles relaxed once again, a mechanical reaction. Her full belly didn't translate itself into a once well-known sense of security this time, though. Wispy traces of uneasiness remained there, and they showed, as she had to walk with her palm firmly pressed to the wall in order not to stumble.

  
Not bothering to strip off, Lotte went straight to her bedroom, lunging herself on the bed, boots still on her feet. Red liquid kept seeping from underneath her scarf more profuesly now, permeating it unpleasantly. She was feverish, the injury on her neck hurt like hell, and all she could think about was how she was supposed to defend herself from an SSS-class ghoul that happened to live just opposite hers, without her change being complete.

  
Because the man living across was a ghoul, that much was clear. How she couldn’t read him correctly all those times in the metro, she didn't know. Perhaps she was too attracted to him to think straight, handsome men were always her weakness, one that cost her pretty much up to this point. Or perhaps she was so sick, reading one's signatures didn't come to her as easily as previously, unless they literally hit her with the force of ton of bricks.

  
Never in her life had she been so overwhelmed by someone's sheer force signature, not even her Maker made her so weak in the knees. Had some of her previous strength remained, she would be ecstatic to meet a challenge. As it was, she could perhaps meet only her own end in these tattoed hands.

  
As the woman was lying there, blood still pooling in the corner of her lips and some of the liquid smeared on her cheeks, Lotte felt like crying. Only then the extent of her abandon hit her with its real force. There was a reason why she was supposed to eat something as nutritionally-rich as ghoul's meat and blood were. It was to gain strength so that she could eat more. And then some. All the way for the change not to end in ultimate demise. Such as hers was beginning to creep upon her.

  
Stretching her arm, her hand shaking, Lotte grabbed her cell phone. It was high time to notify the higher ups about the extent to which she failed and brought a shame on herself for years to come.


	3. Clicking teeth, shifting skin

Chapter 3

She herself is a haunted house/ Clicking teeth, shifting skin.

 

I apologize for much-delayed uploading of this part, life catched up to me and couldn't be ignored anymore, unfortunately. I edited a bit of the last chapter to add few lines that fit what I had in mind better. I added them near the end of the fight sequence, I hope they prepare the reader for what comes in this chapter at least a bit. After this there should be more interactions between the protagonists. Also, because English is not my first language, the mistakes I make may be in some instances comical and I apologize for them in advance. Any suggestions on how I can improve this story would be more than welcome. Lastly, I would like to thank everyone who subscribed to this story, favorited and commented on it, this makes me very happy & keeps me motivated!

 

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# “She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening.”

― Angela Carter, _The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories_

 

 

 

 _He_ _never_ _came_ _to get her_.

Wretched and bloody nightmares troubled Lotte incessantly throughout that night. Fantasies of yesterday's stranger ripping her to the shreds, that somehow gotten intermingled with chopped and warped memories of what she herself has done before, produced a potent nighmtarish poison her mind kept feeding her for hours on end. Fear and visceral lust continued to plague her weary mind throughout the night and she kept dreaming of those tattooed hands tightly clasped around her throat, life slowly trickling from her body. An end coming not with a bang but a drawn, torturous moan.

In direct contrast to her dark dreaming, it was actually quite calm outside her apartment; nobody was there. The phone rested near her palm, its yesterday purpose all but forgotten due to the shaky connection across the Pacific. It rang a few times come morning, failing to arouse the girl from her slumber.

What awakened Lotte, however, was a very persistent ray of light, signalling that it was becoming, indeed, well into the morning. Long and in the shape of the spear, it warmed the tip of her nose at first, and as the morning hours progressed, started to advance towards her eyes, inducing in her the kind of blurry, transitory period between the deep sleep and lucid awareness. The light pretty much invaded her mind, up until now tangled in muddy and grim thoughts that would've been somewhat akin to dreams, hadn't they resembled a seer's vision so disturbingly. The music must have stopped playing some time ago, as it was an eerie silence that greeted her upon awakening. That and the raspy breath of Berg, curled into a tight ball next to her.

Moving proved to have been of grave difficulty. As blood flushed her veins anew and awareness creeped from every corner of her mind, Lotte's predicament would surely become more pronounced with each passing minute. Presently she noticed, and to her distaste too, that a side of her cheek was slathered with saliva. She must've dribbled during her restless sleep and now had a tart, funky feeling on her tongue that she suspected might have something to do with that other thing she did yesterday on her way home. Reaching with a still-gloved hand, she labored to rub it off, only to have the offending liquid cover even more of her face. Forgoing the ill attempt and feeling a first rush of fever tentatively working its way all over her body, Lotte settled for lying down for the time being. Her cheeks, aflame in the sort of uncomfortable, dry heat and a runny nose complemented the morning's state of discomfiture.

A disgruntled moan that escaped Lotte's lips as she was trying to untangle herself from her clothes and failed to do so - the thick jacket suddenly more akin to some torture device - roused the dog from her sleep eventually. Observing her morning routine of stretching and bending her back, Lotte idly toyed with the idea of going to the park to walk her. And it was precisely that moment when recollection of previous night hit her, hard.

There was an alien man living in uncomfortable distance from her own premises. He also happened to be a ghoul, quite powerful at that, if her dulled senses where ever to be trusted at this point. Considering how dependable they proved to be before, even as she grew weaker with the time passing, it seemed indubitable that this man's most salient feature weren't tattoos after all, peculiar as they were in a ghoul.

As she laid on the bed, body frozen in a state of semi-awareness coupled with absolute lack of ability to _move_ , Lotte contemplated relocating to some other safe place before he managed to catch up to her. _Good luck with that,_ she thought bitterly, testing her unwieldy legs whether they would move, against the numbing fog of disorientation that settled into her mind and body.And the legs wouldn't budge. It was chilly outside and it didn't seem she would be able to get up and close the windows any time soon.

Cold sweat poured all over her body and her throat went sore some time ago. It was funny then, that instead of feeling cold, she was positively _burning with heat_. Attributing it to the heavy clothing she slept in, Lotte made one another lousy attempt at sitting up and at least stripping partially. This time she made it, albeit it came at the cost. Dizzy, her head swaying a little, the girl tried to still her upper body, all the while bracing herself for the impact getting up would have had on her already fragile state. After a while she managed to move both of her legs, inch by inch, until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. The world seemed hazy on the perpiphery of her vision, contours that belonged to well known objects becoming blurry now. In and out, Lotte counted her breaths to ten before she braved getting up.

 _God damn_.

It's been more than nettling to stand there, febrile and disoriented, and instead of devising a much needed plan of action ( _now that her neighbour turned out to be a ghoul,_ _and a patently dangerous one, at that_ ), being preoccupied with the task of battling the dizziness that prevented her to even stand still. Instead of one fluid stream of conscience, a chopped and highly warped procession of pictures rapidly succeeding one each other had to serve as a highly deficient ersatz of the reality, not in the least helpful in current situation. A walk to the bathroom became a horror ride taken straight from some _Silent Hill_ franchise, her disorientation and tricks her mind have been playing at her lending the normally dark interiors a colouring and even the texture of rust, paint peeling off in disgusting, cascading pellicles.

 _Ignore it_ , the girl kept muttering to herself as she felt her way to the bathroom, teeth clenched painfully and palms reaching tentatively, afraid of even touching the walls, afraid of what may have happened to them as she herself was increasingly becoming unstable . Maybe her home would beome sick too? It's walls, the layers of paint and wallpapers slowly exfoliating , baring the skeleton the walls have been built around, it's state of decay in direct juxtaposition to her own. Flashes of light danced before her eyes and feverish currents kept racing along the length of her body. _Not yet_ , she kept reminding herself, _not yet, I still have some time left_.

Or so she hoped for, as she sprinted towards the bathroom, the wave of nausea threatening to spill a fountain of tissues and blood on a newly tiled bathroom floor.

She barely made it to the indoor pool and the vomit painted it's water pink, the half digested tissues from yesterdays _murder_ floating around her in translucent petals.

* * *

 

The following few days proved to be of bleaker sort so far for Uta. Not much had to be done work-wise, save for maybe some finishing touches here and there. He had a meeting with a new client scheduled later that afternoon and till then he would have to busy himself with whatever shall come to his hands.Leaning back on his stool, he allowed his palms to rest on his laps as he sat perfectly still, thinking. Such dry spells weren't anything unusual in his line of work, he thought. If anything, they indicated that a somewhat stable number of ghouls remained out there, them growing up in number a threat in context of scarce feeding grounds. Nowadays, most of his clients were enduring acquaintances, with a few rookies sprinkled in between, just to keep things somewhat interesting. Their number remained balanced, as the scrutiny that always had been tight in the 4th let only those most fit for survival through, alive. The problem was, these days quite a number of younger ghouls proved capable to survive. Until they chanced upon him in some inopportune meeting, that is, as cannibalism was the way to go in order to _persever_ _e_ in this zone. Not to mention, a fun distraction, too.

But he was well fed these days, there were no pangs of hunger that made him stalk dark passages and alleyways of neighboring wards in search of a meal,like in his younger days. Whatever he did recently, he's done that in pure recreational way.Even so, why was he that much restless then? Allowing himself a minute of calm deliberation, a few thoughts that arrived upon him during the last week kept jutting out.

First of all there was an apparently unaffiliated ghoul prowling the streets near the place he lived. Nothing to be concerned with, it would seem, but he needed exercise, and it would present as good occasion as any other.He caught his scent quite a few times in last weeks and fully intended to pursue that person the day before. If it weren't for his neighbor thoguh, the unruly ghoul could've been dispatched earlier and perhaps less attention would be bestowed to his newer territory. This wouldn't be the cause with her, it seemed,if what she has done recently constituted any recurring pattern.

He let out a faint chuckle, a hollow, resigned sound reverberating in the studio otherwise deadly silent. _T_ _he situation could become rather precarious if the girl was to be allowed to roam freely_ crossed his mind, and his eyes widened instinctively at this thought. The newly arisen problem presented a few interesting routes for him to take, each of them amusing, if he chose with deliberation instead of following his more basic instincts that is. Uta's initial excitement slowly died away, replaced with intense concentration as he begun to ponder possible implications, some of them less advantageous than others. His hands clenched tightly on his lap, Uta let out a deep sigh. Nothing moved around him for a while, save for the few flies that were smacking against the windowpanes rhythmically, desperate to make it to the outside. Briefly he observed them, his eyes tracing their incessant endeavours with no apparent thought registering on his features, and then heaved himself from the chair and made his way to the window.

 _Roam_ _ing_ _freely._ This was precisely the phrase Itori used to describe _that girl's_ situation, some few hours ago when she was leaving for work after a long night of drunken debauchery. Uta was now deliberating at her words, many possible scenarios forming themselves in his mind. Lifting his one slender palm, he effortlessly caught a fly between his finger and the glass, feeling it's buzzing movements against his skin. Observing the little creature squirming frantically, the ghoul stood perfectly still, his visage faintly mirrored in the window. If pressed a bit too hard, the fly would surely ex p lode, leaving an ugly stain on his newly polished panes. A visceral action and quite bothersome in the end, it would seem. _Not worth the brief satisfaction of crushing it._ Drawing back a little and reaching for the handle to let them go, Uta thought that for a time being, even flies should be allowed to roam freely.

No doubt to get stuck with him again in near future, this time for good.

 

That brought to his attention an item that was lying on his coffee table, tucked into a manila envelope that ever useful Itori left on her way back as a delayed birthday present. He already knew what comprised it's contents, it was just the exact content of the press clipping she enclosed with his book that made him curious. Plopping himself on the sofa, Uta removed the book on Egon Schiele from it's casing, eager to reach the piece of news in question first.

With ghoul attacks becoming somehow commonplace it wasn't bound to draw big newspaper's attention, but the sighting appeared to be gruesome enough to engage several smaller, regional dailies. Itori dutifully clipped them, drawing childish designs on their borders, and highlighting some phrases with bright pink marker. Words such as 'mangled', 'mutilated' and _half eaten_ stood out, and it made him lick his lips instinctively to read the account on teeth like traces found on the victim's veins, marking both sides of a body, severed in a half at that. Faint ripples of desire made their way throughout his body as he envisioned small, pointy teeth daintily taking a bite at one place of the body, just to rip it to the shreds in another. She must have been really famished to treat her meal with such degree of haste. It made for interesting fantasy to envision what she was capable of attaining with that tongue of hers, for the corpse was entirely devoid of even tiniest droplet of fluid.

Mauled, severed in half and sucked dry. Pretty vicious attack for somebody who wasn't even a ghoul to begin with. But of course, the press didn't know that. The fact that somebody apparently ate half of a victim's face secured the notion that the perpetrator was a ghoul without a doubt. There was also the question of the victim, a male ghoul no less. Deemed to be an especially flashy example of turf dispute between rivalling members of the same savage species, the journos treated their subject matter with a slight derision that didn't escape Uta's attention. Strewn between remarks intended to be witty, the gruesome details served mostly anecdotal purpose, more titillating than informative. _Typical for humans to underplay their fear with ridicule_ , Uta thought, his fingers tapping on the table as he scanned the texts for some more info that would somehow strengthen his private theory on the perpetrator of that crime. Nothing more could be culled from them and he set the clippings aside with a frustrated sigh.

Vision of her bloodied knuckles and the heady smell of her illness mingled with her victim's blood came to his head and he remembered a brief, but quite strong rush of excitation he felt that night at the possibility of meeting _somebody new_ outside of his own circle to fool around with. Blood has always been a big turn on for him and Uta's hand slowly raised to cover his eyes, in an attempt to somehow appease his growing need and soothe the storm starting to form within his body. Jerking off in a studio that was in a way a semi-public space simply wouldn't do, as would be hate fucking a complete, and potentially dangerous, stranger next door, however tempting the fantasy has been. Somebody who could mangle a mature male ghoul and have as little as a limp afterwards could become an indeed _suitable_ lover.

The fact that she apparently was in habit of eating his own kin would perhaps be too big of an obstacle to overcome for that to happen in any near future however.

 

 

A/N A shorter chapter than usual but I've gotten a bit rusty and needed some warm up. Hopefully next chapter will come much faster!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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	4. Salted Wounds

Chapter 4

Salted wounds

 **AN** _This part may be subject to some rewriting later on_. Like always, huge thank you to people favoriting and subscribing to this story, I'm pretty motivated to have this one finished. A few gross chapters awaiting! All suggestions on how I could improve it are more than welcome as well, now please do read on~! **  
**

_She is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile, like the odour of violets given off by a decomposing body._

**Jean-Paul Sartre,** "La Nausée"

It was well past noon, the sun was quite high on the horizon, and the girl lying in the pool still hasn't come to her senses. Halfway steeped in the water, she was lying face down, a halo of hair bordering her head, floating like a seaweed on the shore. Her arms spread wide and deep under the surface, only her lower parts remained on the tiles. A body of water around her was placid, an indicator that some time had passed since her body hit it. A phone had been ringing for a while now, it's shrill voice not cutting through the thick hazy cloud that muddied her consciousness.

The room around her was airy and spacious, a touch of luxury rarely experienced in various dwellings she inhabited before coming here. Thick, concrete ceilings enabled an indoor pool to be constructed on this level but it was left empty most of the time. Lotte would swim there semi-regularly, usually after guilty conscience hit her. The telephone talks with Leonard or various acquaintances from the organization were the usual source, and keeping herself in good condition seemed once again a worthy pursuit then. Aside from those occasional events, no water was to be found there at most times. It was Lotte's first conscious thought in fact, that but for the water, she would've split her head badly. And that would have surely made one botched _hatchling_ out of her, that much she was sure.

There were little strands of body tissue floating around her, Lotte realized as she opened her eyes under the water. Obstructed by her hair at first, they glided past her freely as soon as she pushed the strands away, curiously translucent under the sun that filtered through the windows and the body of water. _The ghoul meat_ , Lotte thought, _wasn't that palatable after all_. Tough and sinewy, it was coarse in taste, an experience by no means gratifying. But it was a nourishing meal, she realized. Too wholesome, it would seem, as her evidently calorie deprived system rejected it in so a dramatic display. Now that she had the offending bits and scraps out of her system, pieces of last night seemed to slowly fall into their place _and the view wasn't pretty_. Somehow, wedged between the moment the remnants of her attacker hit the ground and of jumping over the fence to scurry into safety, there was a memory of something much more sinister coming into fruition. Glitchy and ripped into random snippets, a parade of grisly details flooded her and Lotte stirred violently under the water, head coming to the top with a start and a loud „Arrgh!". Spewing water, she slapped her hands on the coping, searching for a way to lift herself and not fall further into the water. Flailing helplessly, Lotte finally found a purchase she so desperately needed and lifted herself, body strained and aching from the endeavor. Once again face down to the tiles, only coughing and wheezing were discernible in the room. The phone stopped ringing a good while ago and Berg was by her side now, clearly agitated. She tried to lick her palm but Lotte moved her muzzle away.

„Fuck!". Mumbling this word more than few times, Lotte rolled on her back, eyes closed and her chest heaving with visible effort. _This defnitely wasn't the best start of the weekend._ And that was the moment when the phone started ringing once again.

* * *

A subtle jingle near the shop entrance should have alerted Uta upon his client arrival. Bent over his newest design, his mind wandering towards possible finishing touches, he was so immersed in his creative pursuits that some time had to pass before he even noticed that someone was standing at the entrance. It was the little cough his client gave that made him stop and finally notice the man behind the voice.

„Nomura-san" the ghoul greeted his client, politely inclining his head and standing up to retrieve the case with the mask from under his workdesk. _Nomura is probably an alias,_ Uta thought a bit absentmindedly, _a surname a little too conveniently common. Typical for ghouls not wanting to risk an exposure_. A cursory glance sent in his direction revealed Mr Nomura not looking at him at all. His profile was turned slightly; the man has been taking in his surroundings calmly, a habit of somebody who lived enough time in this part of the city and knew better. His gaze fell on the glass cases, effortlessly gliding over various designs and finally concentrated on the single box of tissues, standing out in a peculiar way on a coffee table otherwise perfectly stark.

 _So maybe he couldn't contain himself_ _after all_.

A private smile still danced on his lips as he retrieved the case and came up to hand it over to the older ghoul. In return he was given an envelope containing his payment, as was custom between them. Mr Nomura has been an enduring customer, his tastes leaning more towards heavy fetish play, an interesting contrast, or maybe indeed adequate complement to his face of a tired salaryman. Whatever he had been doing with his designs Uta didn't know, only the fact that the measurements for each of the wares he has made for him up until now had varied substantially. All of them however would fit a woman better than a man, a curious fact for their maker. His discretion and Nomura's general lack of verbosity prevented Uta from inquiring about the purpose of his designs, of whose he's been constructing one for each month, for four years now. _An impressive array of_ _sex slaves_ crossed his mind detachedly as he bid his customer goodbye, observing the stout man making his way back to the world outside, to the casual observer nothing more than a common man in a slightly better than average clothes.

 _With the exception of sensory deprivation bondage hood that he carried in the sleek grey box_ _that_ _Uta packed his designs in,_ _that is_. Fashioned from thick, black leather and delicately folded in the light white paper, it had padding over mouth, ears and eyes area, a dubious treat for the receiver if Uta was to be asked. But he never questioned his customers requests, his main interest in aesthetical side of the task. Standing by the desk and caressing the human skull on which he used to model his masks for women, Uta thought about other things to do, now that he had Nomura ticked off for a month. Searching his mind and not finding anything to do, he decided to head home earlier, secretly hoping he would be able to catch a glimpse of a certain voracious shut-in. A _nd then maybe he would finally hunt for that elusive stray ghoul from their neighborhood_.

* * *

If standing up and finally taking Berg for a walk was a necessary but nevertheless taxing exertion, then taking all the measures to get her car out for a _ride_ a few days later had been down most depleting thing she had to do in last weeks. Generally more partial to walking, Lotte used the car the organization provided only on sparse occasions.

But there was no omitting this. When she finally answered the phone it turned out that the organization had ways of getting into undisturbed contact even though having an internet connection had been strictly prohibited upon installing Lotte in Tokyo. A smooth and curt voice of an previously unknown to her higher-up going by the name David informed her that there was a classified _mission info_ waitng for her at self-storage facility in Minato-ku location of the firm, intendanded for audio-visual as well as for confidential document storage. She was familiar with this firm and its various branches, places with facilities fit for storing everything from artworks to wine. Magnetic cards used for access to the art locker in Shinagawa have been sitting in her wallet for some time now, mailed to her around the time she first came to Tokyo. In this case the relevant details have been enclosed in the envelope hidden in confidential data storage box in Minato-ku, a ward neighboring to Shibuya. Authorized to use organization's storage space, she was to be given an adequate card key upon arrival.

Presently she has recovered from the trauma her last attack gave her enough at least to risk such an undertaking. And to do that, certain haste should be applied, as the afternoon rush hour was fast approaching and the facilty was closed at 6 pm, sharp.

A bit awkwardly and clumsily, Lotte busied herself with getting some comfortable clothes on, having slouched the whole preceding week in nothing but a bathrobe. It didn't help that rampant thoughts about possible contents of the file, as well as the identity of her contractor, continued to swirl around in her weary head. This „David" person she had never encountered, otherwise she would have remembered him clearly. But that was an _alien_ voice in the phone, that much was sure, and pretty conceited at that, too.

She had an inkling to call the central to receive some kind of a confirmation about his identity. It seemed a prudent thing to do, after making so many rookie mistakes in the last few weeks only. He knew the number of her back-up burner though, and that wasn't something everyone had an access to. In fact only three people have known it. Leonard, for sure, her main partner in States; Alexandra, a reluctant friend back at St Louis quarters; and _the guy who_ _ha_ _d_ _bit_ _ten_ _her_ , definitely not her first choice of an ally in times of need. This David guy had to be an acquaintance of that last person, a logical conclusion considering the seemingly high position they both held withing their ranks. In charge of the state of New York, he never showed up whenever she was around and it was no wonder they've never seen each other in person. But he was an authorative figure, and _tried to_ _boss her around_ he did, as he was clearly wont to. Calmness was a way to go with this kind of people, and Lotte managed to navigate their talk with her pride relatively intact.

 _Now, if only she was able to get that 5000_ _S_ _up and going_ _she m_ _ight_ _as well get this one done_ _._

* * *

A walk from the metro was different on this early hour, Uta noticed to his slight displeasure. A risk of somebody noticing him, and worse – _remembering him -_ rose significantly in broad daylight. Thankfully, it was still a time for work and school for most people and not many of them were on the streets. A convenient situation for sure.

The weather has been on more or less pleasant side so far, a nice, though crisp, chill in the air and a cloudless sky up above. Aside from the scrunching of the pebbles under his boots, no sound could be made out in his immediate vicinity. That is, not until he came into the cluster of industrial constructions he and his unlikely neighbor were inhabiting. The roar of the engine was resounding among the labyrinth of concrete edifices, growing even more deafening as he neared their backyard. He had to admit, that caught him by surprise. Ever since she moved around half year ago, he had never seen or heard her using a car. A motorcycle, sure, a few times late at night he was that near of mauling her when awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of the engine. But that was a few months ago, as of late the activity on her part of the courtyard was next to none, a sign of her state slowly but surely worsening. That's why a sight of a car parked right next to the garage entrance caught him in a slight surprise.

Both scissor doors lifted, the car's sharp silhouette glistened in the sunlight. It was hard to get a good look on the girl. Presently she was rummaging for something on the passenger seat, partly hidden inside the car; only her legs clad in running attire were visible. The sound of the engine as well as pulsating industrial music mixed into an obnoxious cloud of sound instantly sent him on the edge, his delicately tuned senses assaulted in a barrage of crude noise. Now, Uta was an avid follower of many a music scene of heavier provenance. But the cacophonous fountain of sound emitting from the car's engine didn't sit well with him at all. Not to mention the aggressively showy model parked right under his windows clashed with his sense of beauty rather profoundly.

Intending to quickly glide past his conveniently preoccupied neighbour, in hopes of her not seeing the snarl of sheer distaste on his face, Uta started in the direction of his doors. Unfortunately, in the precise moment his shoe hit the ground, and the pebbles the yard was strewn with scrunched under the pressure of his movement, the girl withdraed from her car, a plastic bag full of beer and coke cans in her hand. A somewhat guarded grimace bloomed on her face as soon as she catched the whiff of his presence and especially the scowl on his face, showing which was definitely not his intention, as he generally made it a rule rarely to show what went through his head in any given moment; there were two pinkish dots blossoming quickly on her cheeks due to the low temperature in the air, against which the long cardigan she wore could in no way guard her. Her sharp gaze warranted some kind of reaction on his part, though he would be content just to brush their encounter off, not particularly fond of being caught with any kind of facial expression besides the designed one. And remembering their meeting from a week ago Uta knew one thing – namely that this particular person was as interested in making an acquaintance as he was. Meaning, only moderately most of time, and very inconsistently at best.

„Good afternoon" came from his lips softly, definitely against his better judgment. Perhaps it would be more judicious to just politely acknowledge the presence of the girl standing before him, without leaving an opening for a further conversation. But a natural curiosity Uta possesed from the childhood age, something that pushed him to explore the everchanging matter of interpersonal relations to their most extreme conclusions, made a chance of her actually engaging in the conversation with him suddenly a very appealing possibility.

It was quite clear that she couldn't hear him well against the backdrop of the noise engulfing them. As such Uta felt a small relief when his neighbour walked to the other side of the car, effectively silencing the engine, at least for a while. There was no hurriedness in her movements, half a year after he first spotted her in the metro she still gave the impression of a dominant specimen, however ailing she recently has been.

„Good afternoon" came her words, mirroring his own. Her head dropped to the side slightly as she gave him her reply. Little foggy puffs came out her mouth with each word she spoke, the cold she must have been experiencing colouring her voice in a peculiar way. „I didn't know we've been neighbours all this time", the girl added, her eyes searching for his own beneath the protective screen of his sunglasses. Having met his greeting with her own, her scowl dissolved a little, though she seemed the slightest bit bothered over them bumping into each other, similar to the first time they met. Shifting from one foot to the other, his as of yet nameless neighbour seemed at once interested and wary of this chance of communication. She didn't have an exactly clear conscience, they both knew it, and was seemingly apprehensive of the extent of his possible awareness. _She will_ _test the waters around me_ crossed Uta's mind lazily and he had to make a conscious effort not to betray his amusement at this. Her reasonable vigilance put him in a good mood and in a rare showcase of genuine benevolence he decided to entertain her for a time being.

„So it would seem. We never had the chance to introduce ourselves properly. I'm Uta, by the way". Catching his outstretched palm in a firm, assured gesture of her own, she let her hand rest in his for comfortable, albeit short period of time. Uta was surprised how cold her skin felt against his own; the tips of her fingers were almost violet in colour now. For a split second the delicate designs covering his fingers clashed with her boldly inked ones. Two centipedes on both pinkies he had seen before, now his sight rested on a parade of insects coiled around her remaining fingers. It made him wonder what other shapes were etched on her body and familiar ripples of excitement threatened to appear again. Immediately schooling his expression from suddenly predatory to that of simple interest. Thankfully she was in a benign mood herself, it seemed. No hurried escapes this time hopefully.

„I'm Lotte, nice to make an acquaintance, Uta-san" came the reply. A stubbornly polite expression still grafted on her face, the conventional pattern of their conversation practically begging to be somehow broken. After a while she let go of his hand, her own body in a relaxed position next to him.

The steam their breaths created in the crisp winter's air intermingled for a moment they faced each other, and through it Uta's playful intent, thinly veiled under the veneer of polite interest, became apparent. With one thin eyebrow pointedly raised, it was obvious her name seemed somewhat funny to him. A banal thing, but it still made her glower for a second, an expression quickly buried deep underneath, a mask of amused indifference firmly in place.

„Likewise, it's been nice finally getting to know your name, Lotte".

Uta allowed himself to drop the traditional honorific, it's sound somehow ill matched with the foreign name she had given him. They were still standing close to each other, both comfortable enough not to back off first. Lotte didn't have any sunglasses on and the afternoon's sun made her squint a bit in order to get a better look at him, a slight frown present on her features, perhaps upon being treated with such familiarity. It could have been that he chose too casual a route to approach her, but it was too late to remedy this anyway. A polite way out of the conversation was much needed, it seemed though. Now that the initial introductions were made, eluding him wouldn't be that easy for his neighbour anymore, and that was something he aimed at anyway. Suddenly a need for a relaxation overcame the ghoul and the thoughts of shower and an evening with a book became most enticing. _Perhaps I'm becoming rather domestic in my tastes,_ Uta thought, his eyes falling on the young woman standing in front of him, steadily holding his gaze, albeit the slightest bit impatient in her overall posture, if her shifting her position from one feet to the other meant anything.

She was clearly in a hurry then. Not wanting to push the boundaries of her proper manners anymore, Uta bid his goodbye properly this time and made his way straight to the door, catching a glimpse of her getting into the car before disappearing in concrete confines of his current place. Their eyes met for a split second and it was clear both were rather intent to play dumb before each other, the friendly exterior masking much more complex matrix of intentions. A steely glint in her glance that he had caught before she disappeared in her car promised much more than her polite mien suggested.

And as he walked through the concrete corridors leading to his current, rather makeshift apartment, thoughts of his next actions, as well as ruminations concerning past few hours continued to swirl in his head. Most of all, though, haunted him a sudden thought about an unfortunate person who would be on te receiving end of Nomura-san's advances this month. And judging on the varying measurements he was given each time the older ghoul placed his order, he had a hunch that it wouldn't be a happy end at all.

* * *

A barely audible hiss escaped Lotte's mouth involuntarily as she was being led through the labyrinth of well lit corridors, stretching before the two walking people to seemingly no end. Having tripped rather abruptly, the last thing she wanted was to alert the attention of a young man accompanying her to, as it appeared, two storage units she was supposed to retrieve her stuff from. To her relief, even if he had indeed noticed the short-lived fumbling behind him, he decided to disregard it altogether. And as she and her slightly unenthusiastic guide advanced under the watchful scrutiny of the ever present cameras, Lotte discretly assessed her surroundings, as was ingrained in her from the earliest days of her training. It seemed that the storage facility spanned an immense distance indeed, such proportions a sign of a certain prestige of the company in a city ever hungry for space. She paid special attention to it's solid walls, seemingly unbreakable, as the company prided itself for providing services that wouldn't be hindered even by an earthquake.

For a long while nothing besides soft padding of their shoes against the tiled floors could be heard. The man escorting her to both confident data and magnetic storage boxes walked briskly before her, not paying her that much mind. She supposed they didn't necessarily started on good terms, so it only figured he wouldn't bestow to her the same polite attention he would usually accord to all his clients. On the other hand, considering all the rules of politeness that governed the society she had to function within for now, wearing such casual clothes and looking as disheveled as she did certainly weren't good choices to make. She made no effort to cover the shockingly pronounced bruises and discolorations on her neck, and the comfortable cardigan didn't do much to conceal the low cut top underneath, more blemishes clearly visible through the thin jersey fabric. Not to mention the tattoos extensively covering her body might have seemed off putting to some; at least, clearly, to that particular employee. Perhaps the difference in height played a certain role too, as having a towering zombie presence behind one's back definitely could make somebody a bit weary, Lotte guessed.

Overall, it was a pity that she had to make an appointment on this particular date, but the matter, as David had empathically stressed, was of an urgent nature. Refusing to further speak on this topic, he refered her to the data the organization had provided. Which is why she had to sign a contract with the company, enabling her to use the organization's storage space freely, as soon as at least the most visible aftereffects of her previous travails would weaken.

„We're here", a curt phrase cut her musings short, as the man behind her stopped and faced her properly for the first time. She could see that he tried to not look at her at all, instead opting to adamantly stare at some unspecified point above her head. „Shall I retrieve the materials, …-san?".

Giving him a consenting nod and summoning as demure an overall expression as she could muster, Lotte couldn't help but be anxious of what was in store for her. A somewhat chemical scent had flooded her sense of smell as soon as the man opened the doors to the main storage area and disappeared along the seemingly endless rows of data boxes. Bathed in blindingly white light coming from rows upon rows of downlights, the girl become suddenly slightly disoriented. _Exerting my body like this..._ _That's n_ _ot good at all, I need to sit down unless I want to make a scene of myself_.

Feeling more vertiginous with each minute that passed as she awaited her guide, Lotte accepted a rather thick paper envelope that he had finally pressed into her hands without as much as a quick nod. His body heat as well as the sound of his steps resounding in the clinically white corridor serving as her only points of orientation, Lotte followed him to the next storage box, praying that she would get better eventually. It simply wouldn't do if she had to enlist the help of a towing company if her state were to compel her to call for a taxi.

With the sound of his footsteps stopping altogether, Lotte took it as a cue to cease moving as well. This time she waited even longer, as the magnetic data storage area was organized differently than the previous one. Propping herself against the wall and trying to breath deeply, the girl thought about all the stuff she would have to go through once she came back to her place. Berg would also need a walk, something she found hereslf becoming gradually unfit to do. _Perhaps she would have to notify the higher-ups after all,_ _to send her some help. Otherwise she was royally screwed._

* * *

The two parcels Lotte was carrying weighed her down considerably, their possible contents a burden of different kind altogether. They were rounding the corner after which she knew the exit would be, Lotte and her unwilling aide, amid complete silence. If the man bothered to look behind, he would notice a considerable limp in her left leg, the girl clearly falling back as they proceeded to their destination.

Seeing her to the exit, the young man was conspicuously relieved, happy even to leave the presence he perceived as chilling and suspicious as soon as she answered his hasty and rather curt bow. Lotte was left standing by the door on her own, the last rays of the setting sun dousing her face in hues of warm orange and red. Crispy air outside brought back to her some very needed sense of clarity and the girl managed to cover the distance to the car without further incidents.

Both packages planted on the passenger seat, she started to fumble for the keys. Joining the steady stream of cars heading to Shinjuku shortly afterwards, Lotte was thankful for the alien road system that kept her focused on the apt route towards home, instead of obsessively visualizing all the possible outlines for the awating task. It seemed however that her curiosity would get the better of her. Whetted by the particular thickness of the file, her interest in obtaining answers as fast as possible led her to park her car in relative proximity to the nearest family diner that appeared on her way back, empty at this time at that.

Drawing her cardigan closer to her body as she made her way towards the diner, Lotte began to rummage around her bag for the rubber band she knew had been sitting there for some time. Having formed a neat bun on top of her head, she hoped her appearance wouldn't have the same effect on the staff as it had with the previous guy she met today. With her cardigan belted tightly around her waist at least some of the bruises remained hidden, something that she should have done earlier anyway. The wind got stronger now, it's icy gusts making Lotte run the last few meters to the entrance.

 _Almost completely deserted,_ crossed her mind when she assessed its interior, mostly bored staff moping around. The food was probably crap here, but the isolated booths to her right would provide a sense of privacy that was essential for what she had planned to do. Only one family sat in the farthest corner to her left, all the other booths were supposedly vacant. The ruckus two little children made around their table did nothing to ruffle the torpid atmosphere around. _It was perfect_.

Taking a seat, Lotte awaited the waiter to come and take her order. The general lack of patrons implied a possible culinary disaster but at this point she was past caring anyway. Her hunger made her slightly predatory, thoughts of feeding from human prey for a change passing fleetingly through her mind. That simply wouldn't do, and as the tired waiter finally made his way to her side the girl made sure to act as naturally as was humanely possible. After some deliberation, she placed an order for a pork cutlet with fries, previous violent scenarios all but gone. The folder as well as the second parcel were placed neatly before her, the details enclosed within very much tempting but spelling a possible disaster as well.

Burying her fingers in her hair Lotte thought that the reason she was assigned to this task, a first after quite a few months, had been indeed very simple. Her lying dormant instead of exerting herself as prescribed could very well hold back the development of the process otherwise necessary, something which was highly undesirable in her situation. No wonder the organization, having their own methods of monitoring her state without flat out intruding in her affairs, would undertake to prevent that.

The music playing in the diner made her feel uneasy. Melancholic tunes coming from little speakers dispersed in all corners didn't sit well with the banal interior, heightening the lynchian feeling to the place surrounding her.

And as she reached to open the first folder, one long nail cutting its paper casing without as much as trouble, Lotte couldn't help but worry for the outcome of this endeavor.

* * *

Having taken a long and hot shower, his hair wet at the nape of his neck, Uta felt refreshed and very tired at the same time. The book Itori gave him proved to be an interesting read, the illustrations enclosed also a pleasure to peruse. Now however it laid flat on the floor, all but forgotten as its reader moved to other activities.

A sound of car tires hitting the pebbles and the roaring of the engine were the noise he very much expected sooner than later. Ever a light sleeper, he could foresee being woken at some point of the night, the crude sound of Lotte's car something he would possible never come to terms with. What made him strain his acute senses however was something different altogether. A tiniest bit of whimper seemed to have escaped the girl below, no amount of stealthiness able to conceal it from his hearing. A heavy trudge could be heard from the place the car had been parked, a sound of somebody too stiff to walk with their ususal ease. The car was left on the courtyard, a daring if not foolish move considering its worth. On the other hand, considering the fact that two quite dangerous people happened to inhabit both buildings, anyone trying to touch it would certainly prove to be a fool themselves.

When his tired head finally hit the pillow a bit later, and before drifting to the much needed sleep, Uta arrived at the conclusion that perhaps he wouldn't have that many chances to meet his newest acquaintance as he had previously thought. Whatever happened that evening, the seeds of her present ilness had been obviously planted way before, perhaps even with the very first cool breeze of autumn's wind. It was quite clear now, after some deliberation on his part, that his ailing neighbour would collapse sooner than he had thought. Especially if big, irregular blotches of bruising and discoloration that marred her neck as well as probably the rest of her body served as any kind of indication of what was more to come.

 _And that seemed the tiniest bit_ _of_ _a shame._

AN **Lotte's surname has been purposefully omitted, the issue will be cleared soon I guess.**

 

147


	5. Penetralia II

**Penetralia II**

**A/N** I'm VERY sorry for not updating faster, some severe case of writer's block has kept me in its grip ever since the last part. Writing every scene took me SO much time and the breaks between them took months. The delay comes also due to some rewriting I had to do, with splicing the overly long second chapter into two easily manageable parts being the biggest one. I'm going to upload some parts of the chapter to the previous ones so I don't need to reupload anything anew. These changes should start around next week. I also noticed some heavy grammar (others as well) mistakes on my part and hopefully managed to rectify those, at least in part.

I would like to dedicate this part to the lovely **palmtoptiger16** who reached out to me via Tumblr back in June asking when this would be updated. I replied with one month to go and you see where it went from then. I'm very sorry for misleading you, and hope you will enjoy this part as well :)

On a **very important** side note, this chapter contains **trigger warning** for extremely NSFW sex scenes of dubious appeal, since the object matter is not pretty at all. Still, I don't condone using rape as a plot gimmick, so there's no direct rape reference here. I would describe some of its elements as sexually abusive in general though, especially for those people who might have gone through abusive situations in the past. It's portrayed as dubiously pleasurable due to a partly broken nature of my heroine in the moment and it happening squarely within the limits of a contract as well. Nevertheless, the motivations are what matters the most, and these are abusive in themselves, just like the context of Lotte's 'consent'. Normally I wouldn't spoil anything beforehand, but I can only sympathize with people who ran into triggering content in fanfiction only to have their day shattered. So I felt an extended warning and explanation was very much needed.

Anyways, I've also decided to give Uta some different measurements regarding his posture, so his height is more along the way of 5'11' - 6'-ish in this story. Also his weight in manga is ridiculous, do imagine something more realistic instead for yourselves :).

Also, the time jumps between the past and the present quite a lot here as the recounting of both meetings between Lotte and Takeda and Uta's actions are intermingled with each other. I decided against using an italicized font to indicate whenever the plot jumps to the past, opting for the dates or other kind of information instead. Hopefully my readers will like it all. Please do read on!

* * *

"The urge to destroy is also a creative urge."

\- Pablo Picasso

* * *

_/Earlier that month, the diner near the X road, Shinjuku/_

The nugget of meat that Lotte was chewing on grew suddenly rubbery as the girl's eyes scanned through the pages provided in the first file. Swallowing with visible difficulty, she felt sickness working its way in her belly. The cutlery she was using fell down on the yellowed tablecloth with silvery clink, its reverberations grating unpleasantly on her hearing. Palms shooting up to her temples, the girl's head dipped heavily downwards, with fingers buried deep within her hair.

„This can't be happening" she heard herself muttering under her breath, her eyes still recovering from the unsettling sight the first photo attached to the file provided. And there were almost fifty of them waiting for her scrutiny, packed into a neat wad and tightly secured with elastic band. She had drawn a few of them before and now a slew of identically styled shots were glaring at her from the periphery of her vision; there were little details that scared her about them, ones that would haunt her for months to come, that was sure. Seemingly a private set of typical fetish photos, in reality they comprised a highly sophisticated collection of murder tokens, a ghastly gallery of previous victims to peruse and draw memories and pleasure from. The deathly pallor of its unfeeling models, the glassy eyes caught by the camera, all of it told her pretty much about the person who took them and Lotte felt as if she'd just eaten a lump of clay instead of pork, as her head dipped even further under the weight of the case unfolding.

The style of the photos taken pointed into the direction she would have to take if she wanted to catch and _eliminate_ the perpetrator, a task laughably hard for a sad wreck as her nowadays. Black leather masks suggested a fetish milieu, dead women screamed pathological sadism and among all of that it seemed as if she was to be that person's next try. Food suddenly grew abhorrent, and Lotte busied herself with reading the memo next, listing the amount of missing people who might've also frequented hardcore fetish sites in the past years.

Obtaining this information from a vast amount of sources was surely a testament to Japanese own organization's efficiency and it seemed odd for Lotte, who couldn't believe how such a prolific serial killer could have eluded them _for so long_ then. Perhaps there was something more to the whole thing and frustration quickly raised within the woman, augmenting the irritation with her own weakening state that could prevent her from _truly_ assessing the case. And this David guy seemed to have known that, too. It was no more than an exercise for her then, it seemed; a cruel joke on David's part, who took the aim of _overexerting_ her in order to make her change _quite literally_. What other thing was left for her in this situation than to disguise herself within Tokyo heavy fetish scene in hopes of attracting that particular man?

No other one, that's what. And worse of all, a credible connection to that person _had already been established_ , as the memo claimed, and the contact had already been initiated. All the preparatory job had been done, without her participating in it at all. Most laughable situation, if only she could find it amusing. As of now Lotte felt positively mortified, overcome with fear of becoming one of those faces, ostensibly alive but very much _not so_ , available for sick perusal in some deepest recesses of the web.

On the other hand though, there were some darker instincts that made her equally repulsed with herself, a visceral curiosity as to how it would be to subject oneself to what all those girls before her were subjected, and come out of it _alive –_ it all made her lick her lips nervously, suddenly aware of her legs, now clasped painfully shut. Her nail absentmindedly stroking the first photo of the set, she couldn't help but think what it would be like to wear that leather mask _for_ _herself_.

* * *

_/present time, HySy studio/_

The few weeks that had passed since he got officially acquainted with his neighbor nearly flew by Uta's eyes, the repetitive nature of his daily endeavours rendering him very much bored and in quite sour mood indeed. Not much had happened work-wise, with few clients interspersed between lengthy periods of forced inactivity. As dreary cold settled on for good, and previous sunny and dry days became a past gone by, the ghoul found himself in a state of inert existence, a vegetative state that not even a hunting escapade from two days ago could assuage.

The lack of inspiration he found himself to suffer from had probably something to do with general calmness that seemed to have recently befallen the 4th. Its shaky status quo was maintained with brutal efficiency by means of natural selection, something that used to amuse him but mainly served to fatigue him nowadays. He craved something more, perhaps a spectacular display of gruesome violence to occur once in a while, like the mise-en-scene Lotte (for he was quite certain it _had_ to be her) had left behind herself a while ago.

At once repelled and excited by the details of the case, he eagerly welcomed the new info Itori had been able to provide on account of her extensive net of contacts, spanning some impressive lengths. So it was with glee that they sat one evening at the Helter Skelter's, hunched besides one another on the high bar stools, and scanned through the pristine copies of investigational documentation, giving particular attention to the detailed photos of the crime scene. Uta remembered the vibrant splashes of red dotting the huge portion of concrete around the victim especially well, a sight he was long used to be denying himself, his hunting _tasks_ performed with swiftness and fastidiously devoid of excessive blood. He could also recall a quick glance Itori stole of him, a mixture of amusement and a distorted sense of pity clearly recognizable in it.

„You're the one who got yourself into this state, U-san" he recalled her saying, a melodic lilt to her words making him want to alternatively maim or fuck her, he couldn't decide.

„ _All work and no play will eventually drive you mad."_

* * *

_/earlier that month, the family diner in Shinjuku/_

She wasn't able to finish her tonkatsu after all. Sitting straight as an arrow, her palms laid symmetrically on the table, Lotte was scanning the contents of her plates with increasingly palpable disgust. Had anyone from the staff ventured nearby, they would probably be taken aback with the way her face had morphed to express the utter revulsion she started to experience. The meat, delicately pink in its colouring, changed before her eyes into precisely portioned, dainty chunks of human flesh. Choice cuts procured from the human loins, tasty preparations of the front's eye fillet, everything that's been explicitly _forbidden_ galloped inside Lotte's mind, causing her such an immense frustration that she would bite her own flesh out of it, if not for sobering glance on the files before her. There were faces pictured there, ones she was supposed to take vengeance for. She would try to rescue them had she had a chance, and these women certainly weren't food for her now.

_People aren't for eating the way you would eat an animal_ , Leonard's words crossed her mind and Lotte couldn't help but snicker at them humorlessly as she picked the piece of pork, inspecting it closely. The hypocrisy they both exhibited on the matter made her feel queasy in the stomach and the girl would still be reeling from it as she stepped back on the pavement, but not before putting the files methodically together and paying for her half-eaten cutlet.

The bored family in the corner watched her idly as she went by them, not in the least suspecting that they could _very well have ended as a meal_ just moments before. As it was now, the children seemed to have finally calmed down; the couple weren't looking at each other, instead focusing on the piece of dead animal each had on their plate. The father was just going to eat the portion he'd fastidiously sliced into a neat cubes before. Lotte glanced at him in the very moment he was lifting the piece into his mouth and watched it disappear in it. She felt like she could vomit any time now and wasn't sure if she hadn't growled a little as she passed him by. Walking hurriedly and concentrating on the pavement, she reached her car in no time, her face flushed with red and her lips starting to quiver.

Her palms were shaking as she tried to put them on the wheel. Leaning into her seat deeply, Lotte tried her best to inhale and exhale properly then, hopeful she could calm down at least to be able to come home unscathed. In and out, the inside of her car was completely devoid of sound save for her ragged breathing.

There was no reason to feel the way she'd felt before. The surge of revulsion and subsequent blinding aggression she felt against the man in the diner was irrational, even in the light of previous traumatic revelations. Closing her eyes and willing her murderous thoughts to die down, Lotte tried to abate the emotional hailstorm raging inside her. It was irrational to vent her anger and fear stemming from the case at hand on the innocent civilian. There was no need to feel the way she felt as she watched him slice the cutlet into those damn neat pieces. The guy was rather middle-aged and wore a pristine white shirt underneath his jacket. It was clear the family were there on some kind of special occasion, and even though they acted bored as hell, they didn't necessarily deserve to be hurt in any way.

"What the hell am I doing?" murmured Lotte as she clutched her head in her palms, forehead leaning almost onto her legs. Contrary to the innocent man she would eagerly rip into shreds just moments before, there was somebody she had to take care of and it was ironic she couldn't bear to think about the task involved even for a second. With her legs unpleasantly wobbly and mind a jungle of fearful thoughts with intense feeling of shame and guilt, it was a miracle she was able to finally start the car and reach home after a good while.

Her face was still tear-streaked as she stopped the car in front of her building and Lotte couldn't care to park it inside in the least. She was also sure her crying could be very well discerned across the courtyard but it failed to move her. Pebbles gave out a steady crunch as her thick heeled boots meandered along the car lines, the girl wanting nothing more than to reach home, take Berg for the shortest walk possible and sleep till noon.

* * *

_/present time, 20th ward/_

The little bells hanging up the roof emitted a chinking sound as the movement of a tall man opening the doors swayed them. Old and rickety, the doors easily gave in and the ghoul let himself in, unbeckoned. His heavy boots were left by the door, a custom he normally wouldn't observe save for the sign of respect for an owner he greatly admired. The narrow corridor's floor creaked even under his light and thoughtful tread and it must've alerted the owner to somebody else's presence in the house.

"You should knock the next time you come", came a voice from the day room round the corner, and soon enough an old woman came to Uta's sight. Comfortably seated on a big sofa, she didn't raise her eyes from the piece of fabric she was working on, her focus squarely on the task at hand. Living alone deep in the 20th residential quarters, Tsumugi was an acquaintance from his younger days, a person he credited for patiently walking him through the exact steps involving making masks, a process he since became a master at.

"Sorry for that, I will remember about it". Moving to the armchair besides her, Uta sat down and observed in stillness the way she diligently worked on something that looked like a mask not yet fully formed; his eyes followed each minute movement. Presently, she would put a needle in and out of the piece of cloth, her rapid, albeit very deft motions producing most delicate flourish upon its rim.

"It's going to be somebody's first mask", came Tsumugi's voice, breaking her focus after a prolonged period of silence, her sight finally falling on the ghoul seated next to her and taking him in fully, "You look gaunt, haven't you been eating at all recently?".

It was perhaps a funny thing to ask, one could surmise, since the woman was a human through and through, somebody who definitely shouldn't have any interest in whether their guest was properly fed these days. She wasn't the one to outright express any signs of concern, at that. Still, the subtle jab contained an interest of a longtime friend and Uta had to reason to conceal his recent interests in front of her. He briefly relayed his current state of affairs, carefully omitting any traces of uneasiness that his newest neighbour brought with her recent deeds, as well as explaining his need for fresh inspiration as the main reason for his visit.

To that latter remark Tsumugi offered no verbal acknowledgment, instead pointing to the farther end of the room, where Uta knew the door to her studio were. He walked there, his eyes keen on every new mask he could make out. They were haphazardly strewn around the tables here and there, some buried underneath the others, and the ghoul had to unearth several of them delicately.

Each design remained in various state of completion as Tsumugi liked to work on them whenever she felt like it – and only to the extent her current inspiration provided. No more, no less, a perfect formula for producing art, Uta thought.

"Something' caught your eye already?". Discrete as it was, her sudden ghostly presence appearing beside him gave Uta ever the slightest chills, and he relished the novelty with delight. Taking one particular piece and gently feeling the material it was made from, he found himself in a temporal lack of speech, at the same time moved and slightly taken aback by the design he was holding.

"Ah, that one". Tsumugi took the mask from his hands cautiously and looked at it deliberately, rotating the thick material in her hands. They were very wrinkled, here and there slashed with an odd scar or two, and Uta thought they bore all the marks of the craft she took up. "A most recent commission. Rather scary lad. Didn't know what to make out of him, so I've just sewn his eyes shut. Seems primal enough to make it without them, though".

Uta eyed the mask that was lying on the table now, its deep grey colour and elegant stitching a contrast with the stark outline of the product. Tsumugi paid him a cursory glance but chose not to comment nevertheless. She was used to him inspecting her works with a sort of mute, intense concentration, so him going speechless over sometimes hours of closely observing her at work didn't bother her at all. The flash of almost wild intensity in his eyes _did_ , though, and she was most likely transported to all those years ago, when a certain young ward leader would bathe the 4th ward in blood, only to come to learn how to sew the next day. This dangerous two-sided mask he would slip on was something that initially made Tsumugi interested in him, so perhaps seeing him so agitated stirred some good old nostalgia within her as well.

She still let it slide, and as he moved onto the next works, exchanging sparse comments about their various aspects, Uta couldn't stop thinking that, perhaps, _certain minds thought alike_.

* * *

_/earlier that month, 4th Ward, hours left to the first meeting/_

The sculpture Lotte was working on wouldn't shape itself the way she wanted it to. A metal wire she planned to use as the base appeared to be too persistent to be bent easily, and the woman grew increasingly dissatisfied with each passing minute. Sweaty and agitated, the girl sat on the wooden stool in her studio and tried to make the hard edged nightmare somewhat akin to the shape of the giant stingray she'd seen with Sachiko the other day at the Shinagawa Aquarium.

With her fingers reddened from the wire and an aching back, Lotte could feel her thoughts drifting back, in search of any kind of motivation, to that afternoon. It was a nice respite from their school work, and since Sachiko's Pa wasn't at home at that time, she was permitted to spend the day exactly as she pleased to. Which meant - with her nose plastered to the glass, watching in awe as seals swam by all around them in the tunnel tank. She even gave a tiny squeal of delight at the sight of sea otter chasing its tail and Lotte couldn't help but feel her throat constrict at the sight. Sachiko enjoyed the stingrays as well, and the sculpture Lotte was attempting to make was meant as a present of sorts, for her friend to put down on her desk and look on it while studying, hopefully to recall these fond memories they both shared.

Now however, the material wouldn't yield as easily as Lotte would like it to have done. Having formed a rough outline eventually, she was just about to grab her fillers, when a signal of a text message rang in the cathedral-like silence that befell the cavernous room once she settled to work. Berg seemed to be shaken out of her previous reverie as well, eyeing her surroundings groggily as Lotte moved past her.

Something heavy set in Lotte's stomach as she was making her way to the phone. It was a shiny new burner, set up specifically for the purpose of her newest assignment. Only three people knew the number, and Lotte was quite scared when the phone began to ring immediately after receiving the message. She didn't feel ready for Takeda at all, and the thought of him soon destroying the peaceful day she's been having made her almost weep. Feeling as if it was her body that was suddenly filled with a scorching hot molten wax, her hands were shaking as she reached for the phone.

"Lotte? I was only able to catch you now!"

So it was Alexandra after all. A long and shaky exhale could be heard even across the ocean, and her friend gave a disgruntled hum in response to it, most likely having already been informed about her friend's situation before.

"Alex, I need to ask you if -". She wouldn't let her finish the sentence though. Speaking in a hurried, and somewhat hushed tone, it was evident that whatever the reason for Alexandra's call, it wasn't an exclusively frivolous one.

"Lotte, listen to me and do it closely- ". The urgency in her voice had the woman in question feel immediately alerted, yet the faltering connection between them effectively muddied her message. "-I needed to ask you, and the boss has just came back from Sudan-".

That gave Lotte a jolt. She hadn't seen the boss before her departure, an odd thing to happen since every instance of such a profound change would be in one way or another supervised directly by her or her closest aides within the organisation. Yet, ever since last fall it have only been D and Leonard she's been seeing, a peculiar thing, now that she thought about it. Alexandra's voice got clearer now and her next question took Lotte aback, her pulse quickening and well audible in her ears.

"What I wanted to ask, and this is something _she_ wants to know as well, is this – have you, in any way, engaged in ghoul hunting?".

There was something akin to an angry udercurrent to her question, and Lotte felt the need to smack her face hard, the conclusion she should've arrived to _much earlier_ only now having formed in her mind. A lengthy period of silence followed Alexandra's question as her friend pondered her answer, nervously chewing her lip.

"Just answer, Lotte". Shame filled the woman and she realized she pinched her skin so hard, it bloomed an angry red on its white colour. She could imagine Alex doing a similar thing, and wondered how ghoul hunting must've looked to somebody of a black skin, to so many back home. The strain in Alex's voice motivated her to face up to her friend, aware that right now, it wasn't about her own feelings at all.

"I killed only once", she finally professed. A short pause followed, Alexandra evidently expecting a word of explanation. "In self-defence, that is".

This time it was Alexandra who exhaled shortly on the other end of the line. Lotte wanted to ask about D then, and the principle of proper nutrition before changing, but her friend beat her to it.

"D is kinda in trouble now, if you're wondering. For feeding you all this bullshit about the ghouls. I don't know the details, obviously, but the backlash was harsh. I'll report to the boss what you've said, and you try to stay out of the problems out there, ok?".

Lotte stood with the burner plastered closely to her ear, her face red and hair clinging to her sweaty scalp. Alexandra's words rightfully made her feel less sure about her stay here than ever before. She wanted to ask so many questions now, Takeda being the first on her list. But the connection was as usual shaky, and when she managed to phrase her question, Alexandra's voice glitched violently and she managed to make out just a few alarmed words before it stopped altogether; the connection was dead now.

Shakier than before, Lotte flung herself at a nearby armchair, her skin slapping against the leather surface unpleasantly. She didn't want to read the message just now, yet perhaps it would give her a pretext not to think about all the weighty implications her short talk with Alex could have. As she used her one overgrown nail to click on the relevant button, the woman prayed it wasn't from Takeda.

Her stomach lurched unpleasantly when a short and concise message read to her an unfamiliar combination of numbers and letters. "Attire as previously agreed upon", it stated in the end and an ugly snarl contorted Lotte's face the second she finished reading it.

_The previous agreement_ had to refer to the correspondence "she" was supposed to have had exchanged with the man. It was most likely a job of somebody from the oranization, carried out by some big wig within, perhaps even that David guy himself. She remembered reading it immediately after she'd come home from that disastrous dinner in Shinjuku, and cold sweat trickled down her spine as she recalled the finer points of the supposed "agreement". Asphyxiation, mask play, heavy bondage. In any other context she would be rather enthusiastic about the prospect, just not now, not with the most repulsing man she could imagine.

A short processing of the informations provided in the message revealed eventually that the combination given was simply that of a geographical location, and the woman wondered exasperatedly _how on Earth she was supposed to find it, without any kind of Internet connection. And while she were at it, how the hell she was supposed not to leave any traces if she would have to visit an Internet cafe on her way outside Yoyogi?_. _That_ was a potential evidence disaster in-the-making. Sighing gravely, the woman made a movement to lift herself from the armchair, the wet sound of a body unplastering itself from the leather most unpleasant.

"No point in avoiding it any more".

Lotte words were uttered to the absolute silence within the room and the woman thought her state must've worsened exponentially if she was beginning to talk to rooms now. Berg was ignoring her once more, unaware of the tumultuous thoughts racing inside her owner's mind, concentrating instead on finding some acceptable place to sleep some more. Lotte jumped over the dog on her way upstairs, the cold atmosphere of lower floors chilling her to the bone now that she wasn't working. The heavy industrial playlist she'd put on moments before pulsated in her ears pleasantly, _such good background if you wanted to fuck a serial killer_ , Lotte reckoned with a wry smile glued to her lips

The hour Takeda gave her would be arriving quite soon, Lotte mused while taking care of her attire, bought specially for this occasion a day before. She grimaced, eyeing the thick, cable-knit sweater and the pleated skirt that went just beyond the kness, its angelic blue colour coming off almost as scandalous in the given context. The pale pink one-piece made of silk stood out even while lying on the bed, and as she felt the delicate material while forming a mental checklist of every thing she had to take care of, Lotte couldn't help but think that perhaps her and Takeda's tastes weren't that different after all.

* * *

_/Earlier that month, the 1st meeting/_

The sweater she was wearing hug her body uncomfortably. Beneath the thick material her skin was beginning to get sweaty and irritated. Woolen tights felt constrictive on her legs and hadn't for the coat Lotte would've felt uncomfortable in the pleated skirt that was to make her look like a schoolgirl.

The secluded stretch of a street beneath a busy intersection in Minato-ku wasn't perhaps the best place to be standing in the late afternoon but this was the place she was supposed to be picked up by the man that'd introduced himself before simply as Takeda.

Increasingly hysterical in the preceding weeks, Lotte's head was blissfully devoid of any errant thoughts or panicked visions now. Hunting predators was something she _was brought into their world to do_ , and she used to do it rather well back in her time. It was shameful then, that for this particular task she was to serve as a doormat rather than an active participant, but she figured she could be at least a _content one_.

Just as the thoughts of the soft feeling of leather on her face began to bloom and take her to places she would rather not disrupt her focus with, a car with its windows discretely blackened pulled over near her. Feeling her pulse quicken, she reached to open the door, her stomach knotted in a tense anticipation.

It wasn't the surprise that would come with the man's appearance she was weary of; "Takeda" put a lot of effort to seem trustful enough to stage a session with, and all of the online conversations between "him" and "her" staged prior to even informing her about the mission revealed a net of details that no wonder all of these women fell prey to, alongside a set of pictures of his body in various state of nakedness, albeit strategically devoid of any details useful for identification. His online profiles spread all over the net, each under different name and leading to different addresses, as she learned upon thoroughly inspecting the mission files at home, were rather hard to link to each other and to one true tangible persona in turn; yet they painted an image convincing enough for several dozen of women to entrust their bodies to. She wouldn't be the one to judge them negatively though, a search for pleasure not a sin in her book.

It still made her wonder exactly how the Japanese own organization came into possession of these, as there was definitely something deeper here; something didn't add up as Alexandra had angrily started pointing out earlier that day before their call was interrupted. No, the man being a predator far superior than her didn't worry her as much as some shadowy play that seemed to go on here, well beyond her means to grasp it.

Yet, as a hand appeared alongside a towering, swelling body behind it, to beckon her inside in a dictatorial manner, Lotte suddenly felt helplessly trapped. Sandwiched between Takeda's body and the doors that promptly closed with a loud _click,_ felt constricting to the point of being unbearable. The session outline "they" had both agreed to envisioned her as a subservient servicer, one to promptly oblige to everything that was expected of her which came within the limits their agreement stated. The contract itself was to be signed on the venue she agreed to as well, and as a heavy palm was placed on her slightly quivering knee the very next moment, Lotte couldn't help but wonder whether he kept those contracts as tokens as well. She was hoping to check it for herself, _and to light his body_ _with_ _them_ _afterwards_ as well.

Takeda's hand didn't leave its place on her knee till the very moment his car stopped, leaving in its wake a patch of warm and wet skin underneath the heavy merino wool of Lotte's tights as he retracted it. The reserve with which he bore himself alerted Lotte to a possible violent outcome their very first meeting could have, his pent up emotions likely to unravel lately in an ugly manner. Expected to act humble and accommodating from the very beginning, Lotte wasn't able to look up and analyze his face well enough to back up her initial assumptions. She would have to rely on her gut feeling instead, and that was screaming at her to kill and run.

His presence beneath her passive, lethargic even, it served as one more indicator of a dangerous situation Lotte begrudgingly agreed to be thrown into. For it was rather obvious that once these tight reins he kept on himself were to be loosened, she would pay the price, recorded on her body with meticulous precision, there was no doubt about that.

Signaling for her to follow him, Takeda seemed to ignore the presence of his driver behind the wheel, who simply turned the car around and drove off. Falling in Takeda's steps obediently but following the car with the corner of her eye, Lotte thought that the presence of another person altered her task significantly. She would have to update her calculations afterwards, that is if the situation with Takeda wouldn't escalate to anything requiring the use of her own resources, severely depleted as of late but still sufficient, hopefully. Then dispatching of the driver, who was most likely a trusted accomplice anyway, wouldn't pose as much importance as immediately running away, undetected-

"Go inside first" were first words Takeda spoke to her since she entered the car over an hour ago. Clearly the one to act instead of talk, she could feel his commanding presence closely behind her, his hot breath fanning over her neck. Her legs felt a little wobbly as they cleared a narrow corridor lined with straw matting and she felt visible relief when a well known sight of a love hotel's desk greeted her eyes. So it was an establishment of sorts he brought her to first, which seemed only logical if his modus operandi relied on gaining the victim's trust first. She hoped he'd chose his own house for the last meeting, as he seemed like a person who rarely trusted anyone besides himself when it came to the actual deed, and that included feeling safest in an environment he had fully under his control.

For now, Lotte wasn't able to infer anything more about her silent companion; her ability to concentrate on finer details of the task at hand was severely impaired by the feeling of a body pressing into her own, as she was asked to offer her opinion on the room Takeda was choosing. A wall had been lined with monitors, showing which rooms were vacant. Blackened out whenever they were unavailable at the moment, a nevertheless impressive array of rooms remained at their disposal, some arranged more extravagantly than others.

Feeling that no other answer would really suffice beside the obvious, Lotte agreed to Takeda's room of choosing, a plain cell with its walls stripped bare and a single bed inside. Guided by a strong hold of his hand on her arm, she could feel that the man was becoming more impatient with each passing minute. He had a suitcase in his other hand, which Lotte didn't notice as they were exiting the car before. It only added to the overall state she found herself in this place, a mixture of lust and dread, expecting something horrible and yet very much welcoming it.

Worst of all, she could feel the presence of _people_ in the rooms to the further right. Such concentration of bodies _overflowing_ with blood made her feel dizzy and agitated. Pulsating in her ears, the sensation was unbearable. She almost hoped Takeda would use a gag on her so she could bite on it with all her fury and somewhat assuage her frustration.

Isolated light bulbs provided only necessary amount of light, with patches of dark lining the claustrophobic corridor. The door to their room of choosing looked plain and unassuming, an entirely different sight looming just behind. Ordered to enter the room first, Lotte could only hope she would be able to cope with whatever this man decided to throw at her there.

* * *

_/undiclosed location, earlier that month/_

Besides the loud, uneven sounds of two people breathing – a rapid succession of jagged exhales and inhales – nothing else in the room could reveal anyone's presence to the outside listener. The slight creaking of the bed, or the soft, slick sounds of two bodies hitting each other were too subtle to be discerned by anyone who might have found themselves in the corridor adjacent to the room.

Muffled wheeze escaped Lotte's lips, chapped and dry from the exertion. With her cheek pushed deep in the pillow, breathing was made hard. Moving was even more challenging, as she found that her arms had been twisted behind her back and tied securely with a manila rope. Sweat started to form on her forehead, the warmth the body beside her radiated being magnified by the full clothing she had on, with thick cable knit pullover pushed just beside her chin failing to provide any sort of relief from the heat.

It didn't help that she was tangled with a body of a man twice her size, whose sheer volume seemed to encompass her whole, pushing her deeper into the mattress, the coarse bedding adding new sensation of discomfort to where his hands and lips weren't. Painful waves of dubious pleasure washed over her at the combined feeling of his deep and unrelenting thrusts and overwhelming weight.

One bulky hand reached down and rolled her checkered skirt even further up, finally settling down flatly on her belly. Pushing himself even deeper between her thighs, clamped shut because of the binding, the man kept thrusting inside and out in an erratic pace, his other hand hooked over Lotte's neck, constricting her breathing even further. _Sweat tends to make the skin slippery_ , and the wet sounds their bodies kept making along with the moist and greedy kiss he forced her into rendered the girl at the same time nauseous and morbidly aroused.

She could feel herself akin to a rag doll under this mound of flesh, submissive and pliant, reluctantly relishing the sensation of wet bitings placed around her exposed nipple, bared just enough to be accessible. The sheer size of the man's torso and abdomen made it impossible for their bodies to fit, having Lotte feel as if she was suffocating when he pressed into her forcibly, rendering her a doormat rather than a person, passively receiving bites and kisses left on her body with not as much as a mewl.

And seemingly worst of all, with all the recent happenings considered, _she liked it_.

* * *

_/undiclosed location, earlier that month/_

With a sharp exhale the man rolled on his back from behind her and for a moment nothing but his heavy panting was audible. His monstrous body raised and fell with each labored breath, his genitals looking now like a pitiable clump of flesh. One bulky palm was still placed flat on Lotte's stomach, heavy and moist with sweat. If she wanted to, she would be able to count all the visibly black hairs on his forearm, up to the point where a gold watch encircled his wrist. A sheen of perspiration covered his skin, a testament to the long and torturous feat he'd just subjected her to.

The woman was lying lifelessly on the same side, with her face pressed into the pillow, her hair now a messy shrub around her head. Rhythmic movement of her chest betrayed the fact that she was, in fact, very much alive, just very much deadly silent. A pool of semen formed itself in narrow space between her conjoined thighs, with more liquid oozing still. The bedding felt even coarser to her now sensible skin and the clothing she wore were thoroughly drenched with sweat.

_The silence kills me_ , Lotte mused, dark thoughts swirling and pulsating in her head in direct juxtaposition to the throbbing of pain and pleasure dying out inside her. Above all she was hungry, and patiently playing along with the charade she was to follow most certainly _did not_ involve devouring the target of the whole operation after the first meeting.

She felt the man's palm leaving her abdomen and the bed moaned under the weight of his moving body. From the corner of her right eye she could see him sitting up and stretching languorously.

„You were passable", left his lips in short, clipped sounds. He wasn't looking at her at all, instead focusing on the bindings. With deft movements betraying the experience of a seasoned expert, he unclipped the bolts keeping the wide leather belt secured tightly over her knees in just a few seconds. Lotte wasn't to talk until he had finished. Various scenarios kept forming in her head and would dissolve before gaining any substantiality. Physical exhaustion brought about a sense of detachment, a well deserved mental rest after her mind paid strict attention to every action her body was made to withstand. She chronicled every minute detail of it, storing it away for later use, to feed from it once the final move should be undertaken.

„The rope, I'm going to leave it as I shower". The man's curt voice cut into the wall of her thoughts, and his scrutinizing sight met a nonplussed mask of her own. A slight gesture of acknowledgment on her side was all he needed to feel satisfied. „Wait patiently and maybe I'll unbind you" were the last words he gave her, before the man turned around and headed for the bathroom, the faded and stretched outlines of the tattoos covering the whole portion of his back now clearly visible. _So the whale was once quite the lion, fancy that,_ crossed Lotte's mind amusedly as she settled on the bed as comfortably as her twisted arms would allow and began to breathe slowly, desperately in need of some calming down

* * *

_/undiclosed location, earlier that month/_

The unpleasant chill slapped Lotte in the face the very moment she stepped outside the building. Although wrapped in a warm coat made from thick wool, the woman felt prickly tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes, the toasty temperature indoors in no way preparing her for the dry and wintry wasteland outside.

Her boots scrunched unpleasantly as she trudged along the nearby park's lane, in this time of the year peppered with a mix of salt and sand in order for the ice that'd started to form on the surface to lessen. Her pace was slow and she had to halt from time to time, whenever the exertion would weigh her down too much. After awhile she seemed to have given up and plopped on the frost covered bench with a loud exhale.

The cup of coffee she'd purchased on the go started to feel a bit lukewarm in her hands and after sipping the first few gulps of its tepid contents, she felt a resigned grimace stretching the corners of her lips into a ghostly travesty of a grin. Up until now firmly affixed into a tense smile, Lotte felt her face muscles loosen and soon enough, her visage expressed nothing at all. Absolutely motionless on the bench, most of her muscles rigid and aflame with severe pain, the woman could come across as if she were a statue. It was uncertain if she was even breathing, an action increasingly pointless from Lotte's perspective. Silent and unmoving, she was intent on observing birds scurrying by, though her sight seemed manily fixed into one spot.

People were passing by her occasionally and their visibly flushed skin, suggestive of the blood flowing underneath, made her feel acute hunger. She would fidget uncomfortably and bite her lips then, till it became numb and white in colour, the very thought of feeding on random people suddenly less of a moral failing than merely an unattainable perspective. Lotte's posture shook as if electrified with that last thought, her sight suddenly fixated on someplace else, everywhere else than the nearest passerby. Her mouth became dry with want and it was clear that her palms were shaking.

Taking a stroll through the community park in order to cool down wasn't the very best idea, then. Having wrapped a scarf around her throat tightly – albeit not knowing whether it was to shield herself from the biting cold, or to shield the others from her teeth – the girl stood up, thinking how to avoid the people best, and at the same time reach her house before Uta would come back from work.

It wasn't perhaps unlikely that he would be able to guess the reason behind her weariness, if not outright smell it with his finely tuned senses as well. That thought gave her a jolt of disgust, and she skirted around the park hurriedly, eager to reach the nearest metro station as soon as possible.

_It was bad having to fuck with one serial killer, she didn't need the other one to be aware of it._

* * *

_/present time, 20th ward, Anteiku cafe/_

"All I'm saying is, if that guy comes here again and hunts where _he isn't supposed to,_ we _should_ eliminate him immediately...!".

The young tween spoke these words hotly, clearly agitated, her voice reaching an alarming crescendo to the end, and Uta chuckled amusedly under his breath. He was seated in front of the counter, just a few feet from where she was gesticulating wildly and kept observing the remaining three people with feigned lack of interest. Ever the lightest grimace flew by her older mentor's face at her childish antics and he shook his head disapprovingly from where he stood, seemingly intent on the process of brewing the coffee for them all.

"Now Touka-chan, such behaviour could well bring unnecessary attention from the doves. If anything, Yomo-san will take care of it".

The girl's head whipped energetically in the direction of the man mentioned, catching his disinterested gaze with her heated one. To Yomo-san's remark he gave nothing but a short grunt, acknowledging what was expected from him. Uta sent him an intent glance then, one well manicured brow shooting upwards and mild interest etched on his face. His friend rewarded him with the noncommittal shrug then, and the ghoul had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at that. He simply wouldn't change, ever, it seemed.

"Uta-san, what do you think about that?". The ghoul's head moved into direction of Touka's voice after a second, and he had to stifle an amused grin threatening to bloom uncontrollably at the sight of ever the slightest distrust evident in her eyes. She was the newest member of the Anteiku crew and quite possible the most hot-headed one, he reckoned. A joy to witness, he thought, but he wouldn't be telling her that. Instead the older ghoul sent her a slightly crooked smile and shrugging lightly informed her that it wasn't his prerogative to interfere with the 20th's business. He could see how her face fell at that, having perhaps hoped he would back her up on that one.

And to be precise, personally he _could_ back her up on the sentiment. If she, under some fantastical circumstances, landed in 4th instead of here, good use could be made from her spunk and fiery nature. As it was, utilizing one's blind rage wasn't the way Yoshimura would in any way endorse, and his young mentee would have to learn that by heart.

He paid his goodbyes shortly after, his visit motivated by nothing else besides the proximity to Tsumugi's house. An added bonus would be the manager's coffee, and he still found himself wondering what exactly went into the mix as he kept walking on the street, a brisk walk through Shinjuku to the metro station something he long waited to endeavour.

* * *

_/_ _present time, Chofu/_

The second time Takeda staged their meeting, it was in a cheap touristy hotel far away from the bulk of Tokyo's 23 wards. Located in Chofu, a sleeping community for the central Tokyo, it seemed like a good place to stage the meeting Lotte and her companion had in mind.

Slightly pained moans reverberated within the concrete walls of the room. With her back painfully pushed into the bed frame and no more place to retreat, the girl kneeling on the floor couldn't do much. Hands were placed on her head, and she could feel her scalp on fire from where the man had fistfuls of her hair in his grip. Both of her palms shooting upwards, the eyes tattooed on both of her palms blinked at her gloomily, from where they were put to try and slow the forceful tempo of Takeda's moving body hammering into her mouth. His member too uncomfortably big for her lips to accommodate, Lotte could feel the tears start forming with each thrust and made one more feeble attempt at stopping it.

"Open it", the man grunted patiently at that and proceeded to clasp her nose in his two fingers as he drew into her some more. Unable to breathe for a moment, Lotte's mouth were painfully full the second she strained to take a breath. Relenting, she stopped squirming and felt her muscles loosen, her body a servile receptacle to whatever the portly man in front of her wanted to do with it. Stabilized by his unwavering grip on her head, she felt passive and totally under control, succumbing to a violent fit of coughing and wheezing only after he emptied himself to the last drop and made her lick what remaining liquid was left on him.

Feeling feeble and shaken, Lotte's head was leaning onto Takeda's massive thigh, a crown of wet hair plastered to his skin. From where she rested, she could observe the colour of his skin, its lumpy texture an unpleasant sensation on her own skin. A labyrinthine pattern of veins, clearly visible from the effort, marked parts of his body, pale green under clay-like sheet of skin. It wasn't even that palatable, Lotte found herself thinking, as she was heaved effortlessly and laid down on the bed.

Through the thrum of blood pulsating in her own body, she became at once more acutely aware of Takeda's wedging himself between her parted legs and hovering above her, their eye contact never broken as had been previously agreed upon. It was hard to do so, and the woman had to stifle the need to close her eyes as she felt him about to slide inside her. Maybe it was because of the complicated emotions this tryst was bringing her, ranging from panic through aggravation to an odd sense of despondent pleasure, but Takeda soon found her body to be completely arid.

Perhaps to his contentment, too, as it didn't seem to halt his movements at all. Her hands incapacitated inside his bigger ones, Lotte felt her legs parting obligingly, her body driven into the bared mattress under relentless volume of the body slowly enclosing her. Each inch that went inside her painted a pained crease on a face that up until now had remained more or less fixed.

There were no words exchanged, Takeda concentrating on giving pain and receiving, squeezing out every drop of pleasure available at his disposal, and Lotte contractually obliged to remain mute unless directly asked to answer. Her nerves aflame, the woman luxuriated in the strain this body from above brought to her, its sheer mass moving little to none, yet easily overpowering the feeblest attempts of resistance on her side. Yet, the pleasure ended as fast as it befell her, and the man drew back, obviously displeased with the lack of reaction he was hoping to elicit.

His hand travelled up the length of her body, pushing her legs apart and gliding over the area between her legs, her pussy acutely sensitive to touch and vivid colour of red due to the irritation of the skin. A grimace of discomfort crossed her features and she gave out an angry hiss as she felt his hand stopping there, the thick fingers caressing the sensitive area with clear intention of going _further in_.

„Don't oppose me", the man commanded, arousal visibly building up within his body. Kneeling between her legs, he was eagerly taking in her features - twisted into a defiant mask but crumpling steadily in reaction to each finger sliding inside her, making her complacent once again. The girl gave out a short moan as she observed his two fingers sliding in and out in a slow pace, more the means of establishing domination than any attempt at pleasuring her. But it ended as fast as it began, strong ripples of pleasure mixed with the feeling of utter repulsion churning in her stomach. It was quite humiliating to feel so welcoming, and succumbing to that ghoul felt even more like an utter defeat than it had before. The moment she yielded, however, was the one when Takeda chose to withdraw, clearly intent on it from the very beginning.

"I'm going to shower. Do not leave first", he said and made his way to the lavatory, not at all affected by her frustrated cussing.

Lotte was left to herself then and Takeda's refusal to use her some more felt surprisingly stinging now. She reclined on the sparse bedding and fixed her stare on the concrete ceiling, filling her mind with mindless counting just to kill the time before the man would leave. The sudden silence devoid of the sound of breathing closed on her oppressively, and the woman strained her hearing for anything, relishing visibly when the sound of water falling effectively cut her from any thought about the man standing there. She was still staring resolutely on the ceiling when he came back to apply the soothing solution on her body and was leaving soon afterwards, a short command to vacate the room within the next four hours and to await further instructions the only thing that Takeda deemed worthy to say to her. She listened to his steps dying down on the corridor, and closed her eyes as soon as they ceased altogether.

* * *

_/_ _present time, Chofu/_

Minutes trickled down and Lotte tried to steady her breathing, an interesting mixture of bile and cum rising to her throat every now and then. She was appalled but also much too spent to venture going to the loo to vomit. It looked becoming, though. It was only after she had spent the next hour in bed, lifeless and unmoving, that she was able to stand up. It all looked all to familiar, and the painful memories of vomiting the ghoul meat from before came unbeckoned. Once again Lotte had to move against the wall to steady herself, and when she finally reached the loo she could only seat on the toilet for who knew how long.

The weak lighting was choppy in the lavatory, the one light bulb over the mirror effectively dead. Lotte sat on the toilet seat with her head in her palms, as if nursing herself after some bad hangover. How many times she'd done exactly that – spent hours in some backwoods motel's room bathroom after each and every assignment somewhere in Montana or Idaho, obsessively trying to wash and rinse all the dust and blood hidden underneath her coat; only to discover over and over again that some things wouldn't go even if she drowned her body in bleach-

Her hands felt reedy and strangely dissociated from the rest of her body as she searched the sparse cupboards maintenance used to store cleaning supplies in. She was looking for the one tried and true medicine of choice she since long ago became reliant on, shaking from the need as acute as it had never been before. Luckily to her, the establishment was run down and badly maintained, and the doors of the cupboards proved easy to prize open. She found the bottle of bleach and opened it impatiently, nicking a bit of skin from under her finger in the process. It peeled off easily, and Lotte disregarded it in favour of drinking half of the bottle in a succession of greedy swallows. The substance felt like fire to her throat, and as it was burning like hell inside, the woman stepped inside the shower and downed the rest of the bottle all over herself.

Red and irritated all over her body, her legs threatened to give up and Lotte steadied herself against the wall. She stood there with her forehead against the tiles, wet hair firmly plastered to the hot and partly peeling skin on her neck; unmoving. The woman kept relishing in every punishing sting of pain, only regretful that this blissful contrition would cease as soon as her skin have started to regenerate, faithfully regaining a fresh appearance as it had done every time in the past. No poison seemed to hurt her for too long. And soon enough, the pain subsided, followed only by a dull throbbing inside, the wretched body of hers effectively dealing with everything that was thrown at it. She rubbed the bleach into where the skin peeled off from her finger, just to make it last some more, but it soon closed, too. There was nothing more to punish herself with here, so it was with the heavy heart that Lotte reached for the shower handle.

This time a quick and clean healing wouldn't come, it seemed. As Lotte stepped from the shower after thoroughly rinsing her body with cold, cold water, the mirror showed an image of someone only vaguely similar to her indeed. White and pasty before, her skin gained a somewhat green and yellowish disposition now, with underlining splotches of angry red on her cheeks. Her first instinct was to smash the mirror to pieces, but in the last moment Lotte steadied herself. It wouldn't do to alert anyone to her state right now. What was prudent was to get dressed quickly, gather her stuff and make it as fast towards Yoyogi as possible. Hopefully a face mask she bought recently would aid her into blending into the evening metro crowd just fine.

She was feeling very hungry _. For anything other than tonkatsu, though._

* * *

_/present time, Shinjuku/_

It was an early evening but there were already street lamps lit to brighten the early darkness and Lotte felt it was more than beneficial in her current state. Somewhat more relaxed now as she was brought far away from Chofu, the woman even ventured to a bookshop on her way to Shinjuku station, from where she had to board the train home, and bought a selection of books on a pure whim. It felt as if she somewhat deserved them, and their heavy load provided a nice distraction from her aching body all the way to the platform. Hid under her face mask, a scarf and a hat, Lotte made it a point to further disconnect herself from her surroundings with music from her portable player.

The music that filled her was loud and brutal, its lyrics on par with dirty and simplified sounds, and Lotte felt it would be perfect had it not been for one of the earbuds going dead in the middle of a particularly savage song, a plethora of sounds from outside invading her once more. So it was with an almost vicious sneer that she recoiled when somebody called her name in the middle of the platform, it's foreign quality peculiar enough not to kid herself it was directed at somebody else.

Turning around with an angry glare from over her mask, Lotte was slapped with the sight she least wanted to encounter that day. Her only working earphone fell out of her ear, and obscene words of the song spilled into the public, inviting apathetic or sometimes openly agitated stares from the people around her.

Cursing loudly, her angry words were engulfed by the sound of the train rapidly approaching. Blaring light bathed her from above, and as Lotte desperately tried to find the earbud within her convoluted scarf, barely coherent thoughts ran through her head to the image of the obviously nonplussed young man in front of her.

_God, please let him not smell anything on me._

* * *

The deafening sound of train coming in engulfed the whole platform, drowning out whatever response Lotte might've had. Standing too close to a platform's edge, Uta could observe as her hair were blowing in the wind made by the train rapidly passing them by, his own strands unruly and escaping from underneath his winter hat. Earbuds were dangling out of her scarf and Lotte was still rummaging in her bag to try to find it and turn the music off, while balancing the hefty stack of books in one hand precariously. When she finally lifted her eyes to where he was standing, she worded her greeting mechanically, her hand immediately shooting to brush the stray wisp of hair away in a nervous motion.

"Sorry, the noise is terrible here", she said hoarsely, eyes darting to the side, clearly reluctant to make any kind of eye contact.

The ghoul continued to walk in her direction without making any comment as to her words. His heavy boots kept hitting the concrete surface until he was standing right next to her, his eyes ostensibly on the railings and a neutral expression grafted on his features that wouldn't betray how suspicious he actually became of her. She had a faint smell of - ... _bleach perhaps? -_ over her, concealed by a heavy undercurrent of deodorant, which was shady in itself.

Discretely observing his rather unwilling companion from the corner of an eye, he thought about the long ride home they would have to take from the 20th to the 4th. Rarely venturing out of his own ward nowadays, it was always refreshing to leave its confines and sample some other parts of the city. Talking to Tsumugi earlier that day, he felt inspired by the new designs he'd been able to peruse at her house. The delicate embroidery with which the elder woman fashioned her masks caught his eyes immediately and he wondered whether he would be able to apply such garnishing to his own designs. _Perhaps one day_ _he would ask her to show him how_.

"You work here?" Lotte's question interrupted his musings and he reverted his gaze back to his companion languidly. He declined with a subtle gesture of his chin, but was in no hurry to elaborate further, thinking what to reveal instead. Not that the woman standing beside him was in grave need of answers. Both hands gripping a stack of books she'd bought that day, she seemed eager to get on the train and reach home as fast as possible; he noticed her legs were shaking a bit.

"Not really, no. Been visiting an acquaintance here though" was what Uta opted for, relying on Lotte's previously displayed aloofness not to pry in the matter too much. And sure enough, a flicker of an interest lit the quick gaze she shot him in return, but died down as soon as it appeared. It seemed you could always count on how tired she was to actually care.

From his position, Uta could notice the way her cheeks were heated in a sort of unhealthy, dry red. She was breathing through her lips with barely visible difficulty, carefully disguised behind the heavily layered clothing and a scarf elaborately veiled around her neck. Evening lighting on the station made each imperfection on her face clearly pronounced, lending Lotte's complexion a greenish undertone, the skin on the girl's face akin to a sheet of old, yellowed paper.

During the short time that'd passed since their last meeting a plethora of changes altered her visage subtly, and for a trained eye it was obvious that she wasn't faring well. Yet, residues of her past strength were there as well, although now merely a shadow of what once seemed to simmer with quiet, controlled prowess. Even wearing her high-school like loafers, Lotte towered over most people swarming around them. She was standing straight, her body weight evenly placed on both feet, albeit her posture was already beginning to sag. It was obvious she tried hard to keep up appearances, but that effort was commendable in itself. Something made her spent all of her reserves for the time being, and the question was what it had been. Perhaps he could ask her whatever had happened, but on the other hand Uta wasn't the one to pry into one's lives uninvited. That is, not until he invited himself into them in the first place.

Probably realizing his scrutiny, the girl caught his eye and hastily turned her head to the side, suddenly very interested in the railings as well. Their breath was conspicuously visible in the crispy air, and both ghoul and the curiously inhuman girl silently followed the silvery wisps as they joined over their heads and dissipated into the air high above.

* * *

"And what has brought you here, Lotte?"

When the man's voice cut through the hazy cloud of weariness that seemed to blur the hard edges around her more with each passing minute, Lotte's first reaction was to blink owlishly at the perceived source of her alarm and open her mouth slightly. No words came to her though and she quickly closed it, very much ashamed. Up until that moment her organism seemed to have kicked into an autopilot mode of sorts. Her body posture chosen with all those books in mind, she tried hard to keep herself awake and alert enough to board the train once it came. It was difficult enough to attain with how spent she was now, and Uta's presence wasn't making it any easier.

Annoyance quickly built up within the woman as she fidgeted slightly under the ghoul's expectant gaze. It was frustrating, not being able to shatter the glass bubble around her any more, and the more inept she was becoming at observing the simplest social conventions, the more will she was losing to even keep up pretences any more.

It was difficult to formulate a coherent, and above all, plausible pretext for her late evening presence that far away from home. And while metro transportation was fast and efficient, making it easy to traverse the city whichever way she fancied, it still could be viewed as rather suspicious when she wandered a 20th like that. Luckily, she had a university here. Collecting herself and pointing on the stack of books she now gripped in both hands, Lotte gave him a little smile and outright lied,

"Course-related business at the university. A tutor wanted to meet up". In a way, what she was doing with Takeda _could_ be viewed as training. If you squinted hard enough.

One thinly manicured brow shot highly at that, and the words Uta spoke next made Lotte momentarily feel as if she was thrust right into the pot of boiling water.

"That late at evening? Isn't it a little odd, and for a winter period at that?".

Right. It was a mistake to assume Uta was ignorant in that matter. For once not allowing herself to grow mad at her own shortcomings and instead opting to search for a solution at hand, Lotte chose the most logical explanation she could muster, given her meagre resources at the time.

"That's true. It was an unofficial meeting though. I fell behind with reading a bit this semester- ".

Half-baked lies were falling from her lips seamlessly, and whether Uta would believe her or not remained squarely outside her. She'd been a top student up until recently, thanks to a lot of spare time and a lack of her usual failings – namely, the Internet; and given the big deal she made about displaying her library in _a glass cage on the rooftop_ , her reasoning seemed to fall a little flat.

"- ...my tutor had a list of extra readings for me to catch up, so I dropped by to get it. I'm older than most students in my group, so sometimes it's hard to motivate myself the way they do-".

At this, the ghoul's attention seemed to revert back to her from where he was scanning the crowd around her rather blatantly and he muttered offhandedly "I see...". _He really might have_ _had_ _at least pretend_ _ed that_ _he was listening to her._

_"-..._ since I tend to concentrate on everything besides the matter at hand." She finally ended under her breath, a little uncomfortable because that last thing was actually true.

She was able to dedicate herself to study the strangest things in depth – provided they weren't currently on schedule. This seemed to agree with the guy, and he shifted his inquisitive eyes back to her. Lotte might have been erratic at times, but she could harden herself in when needed. Avoiding a possible blowup to her task was one of these. Whatever he could've thought, it probably wasn't correct anyway, not with the amount of information about her he had at his disposal.

The two people stood for a while at the platform without further words exchanged. Their height distinguished them between all the people moving about around them and Lotte thought that her posture didn't lend itself well to the charade Takeda wanted her to keep up; she didn't make a convincing schoolgirl after all. Then _, on the other hand, maybe he had a thing for volleyball players._

She chuckled to herself at that thought, rather darkly as well, and grimaced when she caught Uta's amused look, the man beside her apparently expecting such behaviour to occur on her side eventually. The mirth in his eyes altered his whole visage, the girl observed offhandedly. He was unmistakably attractive like that, the bold features of his face well suited to whole range of expressions, almost as if they could randomly change at will within the heartbeat. It was a shame he opted for an apathetic stare most of the time then. _And now she was staring at him rather blatantly_ , she realized and memories of their previous metro rides manifested themselves with rather embarrassing clarity. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Lotte pointed out to the train approaching the platform, eager to get home and maybe peruse some of these book before sleep. She was definitely hoping that the ride would go smoothly.

* * *

_It wasn't going smoothly at all._

Sighing internally, Lotte gripped the handhold tightly, her legs already wobbly with the prolonged standing. Uta kindly took some of the books from her when they were boarding the train and it was easier to balance herself with what little remained, but that couldn't abate the growing displeasure they both began to feel over their situation. Owing to some difficulty with the rail tracks, their train had been standing in one place for over half an hour now. Wedged between that many people, she could only imagine how it was for a ghoul in front of her. Sending him an exasperated look, she dearly wished for his glasses, jealous of his ability to shield himself from whatever was happening around them.

Uta returned the grimace she sent him with his own lips quirking downwards in one corner, his eyes ostensibly on the one pointy teeth that peeked playfully from the thin line of her lips. Hers were opened slightly and outstretched in an ironic smirk, as if inviting him to consider her more fully now that they were standing almost nose to nose. She could smell the scent of fabric softener on the t-shirt that his unzipped bomber jacket revealed and it was its comforting effect that got into her head slightly. She was really tired now, all the bruising and lacerations on her body loudly clamouring for her attention, despite the solution Takeda had applied on her body liberally after he was finished. It didn't help that she drowned herself in all the bleach she could find in the drawer when she was taking shower afterwards. Its chemical taste too soon forgotten on her tongue, she wished she had found something even more potent there.

Worse still was the irritation of the delicate skin of her nether regions, and Lotte briefly wondered whether the residual scent of an another would be picked up by sharp ghoul senses, already on alert as she witnessed on the platform, much weakened as her perceptive prowess had been as of late. Uta's nose would flare delicately from time to time, probably picking up on that bleach from before. Everything was better than smelling of Takeda though, and Lotte would gladly put Uta off as long as the latter wouldn't smell the former. She was not averse to _his_ own smell however, the chemistry of his body _promising plenty of delicious things in store_. That last thought gave her an unpleasant pause and she would be glad if the ghoul's attention were to be on somebody else, for he wouldn't be able to catch the angry snarl that bloomed on her face and altered it most visibly. Meanwhile the train had finally seemed to move, and its sudden takeoff made Lotte scrambling to brace herself, with one hand landing flatly on the exposed skin of the man's forearm, next to where it joined with the neck. His body was radiating warmth and it felt a little non-corporeal, _as if it could readily shift_ _under her touch_ _and change entirely_ , and the woman retraced her hand immediately after she steadied herself, searching on his face whether he noticed ever being touched.

He might not have picked it up after all, it seemed, because of his own sight was glued to a different person entirely. A man was standing not far from them, stuck in the evening traffic just like the others were. As the train was covering more ground with each second and their station was nearing, Lotte' eyes followed Uta's with interest, the initial impression of the man before her eyes being that of nothing out of ordinary. Yet, the ghoul's features were still twisted a bit, a mixture of distaste and slight irritation on his face. His long fingers were holding the hand-grip firmly and it was easy to imagine that he would be rather twisting something else, if given a chance.

Led by her new acquaintance's gaze, Lotte began to search for anything unusual about the guy, and within seconds the snarl she had earlier on was ready to manifest itself once again, threatening to spill on her face in all its inhuman glory. With her teeth now outright bared, albeit carefully hidden behind her mask and a scarf, she could feel blood flowing to where they began to pierce the delicate skin of her gums. _Control yourself;_ _try to_ _break his contact_ , was a calming thought she made herself listen to, hand already leaving the hand-grip she was holding, ready to move where the guy was blatantly feeling an office worker up.

Her movement coincided with the train stopping on their desired station and the commotion that had started seemed to break her path. From where Lotte was standing, hesitant as to whether to take action or risk coming back from the next station on foot, she could see the man's hands leaving the woman's body, casually observing as she scurried to the exit. An expression of utter revulsion was etched on the woman's face and her sight was firmly glued to the ground. Lotte couldn't bear to look her in the eye, thinking that it would only add to the shame the other undoubtedly felt. Her own guilt for being a coward and not reacting at all caused two angry red dots to bloom on her cheeks.

_Solidarity, it seemed, lost its materiality once taking action was needed._

"Hey, our stop is here as well", came Uta's voice and in the very same moment the man decided to disembark as well. The last warning signal rang and when she still didn't make any move, a slender but firm hand was placed on her back and Lotte was pushed on the platform, stumbling a little as her legs protested against the movement. Plenty of people were around them, the commotion made even more erratic by the impending departure, and thanks to the throng on the platform and inside the wagons, the man would perhaps be able to make his exit quietly. It wasn't the case though. By that time, Lotte's vision got very blurry from the previous exertion, and she presently relied solely on her sense of smell, following Uta out of the lack of better option, while all the time graciously supported by his right hand, all her books once again a heavy load to carry.

The ghoul was moving very fast, blending seamlessly within the crowd even with his imposing height, and when his body made a sudden jerking movement, Lotte followed suit with a muffled moan. Two things happened simultaneously then. A fountain of colours exploded before her eyes, and the mixture of tofu she ate earlier that afternoon, with all the seed she was made to ingest afterwards, threatened to be spilled on the platform; and the sound of a train departing got very audibly mixed with an acute, piercing squeal of a man screaming bloody murder, an instant crowd thickening around its source.

Still being led to the exit, Lotte had to crane her neck then, in order to locate the man whose hand, it seemed, looked wrung as if it was a piece of wet cloth. People began to flock to where he stood while he looked at his lifeless appendage in stupor, not yet fully understanding what might have happened. Feeling her heartbeat begin to pick up with the scent of first droplets of blood hitting on the platform's surface, Lotte swallowed the frustrated wail she very much wanted to emit, and continued with the brisk pace Uta kept from the very beginning, the young man close to her seemingly careless of the man's tortured cries.

On their way from the exit, they were pushed away by two alarmed guards rushing to the scene, and the ghoul calmly helped the girl collect the books the collision caused to spill. Their eyes met then, and even though Lotte couldn't see the act with her own eyes, it was evident from the context who had done it. His visage was an exact copy of her own playful grin from where she provoked him with her less than human teeth, blooming in a mouth that seemed too small to contain all of them. He wasn't able to react in any way to it _then_ , and she just couldn't confront him about all of this _now_.

_Not without_ _the risk of seeing_ _the ghoul in him,_ _at least_ _._ And she just couldn't afford it right now.

* * *

A/N So, I would like to say that an outline for the next chapter is pretty much prepared, with only the key scenes remaining to be filled up. A last update around spring and another in November seems surreal. At least I hope that the length of this compensates for the unacceptable delay. Lastly, I welcome every suggestion how to improve this story and reviews in general as well :).

 

 

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	6. Coagulating

A/N

This is the full version of this chapter, another one is in the making. The more time flows between these updates, the more it seems this work needs some serious revisions and expansions. But not before next chapter is posted. Please read on for the new scenes and hopefully next chapter won't come next year or something ;.;

* * *

**Coagulating**

The streets were deserted when Uta and his companion made their way back home on foot. It was rather difficult to keep at pace with the ghoul, armed with all the books she bought and Lotte strained to keep up, the occasional beams of light coming from the street lamps accentuating a mosaic of grey and green shades on her face.

\- ,Wait, I can't keep up... fuck-'

Harsh light bathed Uta in a halo of white as he peered down at a woman kneeling some few metres from him, books strewn around her and her head stuck into leaves of somebody's hedge, retching. The seed she gulped down, crowned with that day's tofu meal, all spilled into somebody's prized piece of greenery in a pearly mess.

Tearstricken and covered with broken blood vessels, Lotte was understandably reluctant to show her face any time soon, though she couldn't simply stay with her head stuck into that foliage forever. Perhaps if Uta grew bored with staying in one place, he could just-

\- 'You planning on staying there forever?', came his casual question then, a perfect timing if anybody asked her.

\- 'Can I though?', a grumble, followed by some rustling sound came from where Lotte's head should be. She was going to get her head from that hedge, eventually. As soon as she was able to see anything else from speckles forming an ever-moving caleidoscope of shapes in her eyes, that is.

\- 'Doubt it', came his reply and a hand caught her arm then, strong and warm, to help her steady up, 'Plus' – and the ghoul allowed himself a small smile as he helped her shrug the leaves and tiny sprigs from her clothing - ,I'm sure the owner of this house won't like that you've vomited on his property at all. These things tend to make people angry, I imagine.'

Lotte would've laughed then, if only her mouth wasn't once again full of bile, so she just turned away rapidly, producing a sound that was something between croaking and a moan instead. Coughing, she strained to pick up all the volumes she'd let go. Uta fell into step with her then, his face stolid as he took the books from her, seemingly indifferent to how miserably pathetic his companion looked, and for which she was actually quite grateful.

They were silent for a long moment then, Lotte feeliling humiliated and Uta respectfully distant. Only when they reached the soon-to-be-demolished block of flats where Lotte mauled and eaten the ghoul that'd attacked her, did Uta spoke and offered they sit down, if she felt the need to. Tired and eager to reach home, Lotte was initially reluctant. Virtually defenceless in case he decided to attack her, she reminded herself that no ghoul would perhaps want to consume somebody who may as well reek of cum and tofu to them. Although if perverse enough...

In the end her curiosity prevailed, a cursed weakness of will that had made her explore abandoned, desolate places without supervision and walk the night roads alone before, and look how that ended for her-

Letting an exhale, Lotte gracelessly plopped on the bench nearby and Uta joined her then. They sat arm in arm in congenial silence, the woman absorbing the scenery around her as well as the reassuring warmth seeping through his jacket, and her ghoul acquaintance nonchalantly checking the books she bought in what little light the partially broken street lamps around them provided.

\- 'That's some challenging things they ask you to read', he remarked casually, his slender fingers travelling along the spines as he read the titles one after another. The woman beside him shifted slightly and shrugged, her eyes fixed on the delicate patterns tattooed on his skin. He didn't need to know that as of late nothing her lecturers said made any sense to her anymore, as she kept shifting between feverish daydreams and brief periods of lucidity while in classes, not to mention she started straight out missing whole days of them as well. For all it was worth, he might as well believe she was still able to go through all of these and make even remotest sense of it.

She no longer did, though, and her prospects of completing her degree on Todaju started to look grim. But Uta didn't need to know that.

Clothed in a schoolgirl's clothing, a handsome and dangerous man by her side, Lotte felt a bit giddy then, a girlish little sentiment straight out of shoujo manga, one she never really explored when she grew up, far to engrossed in climbing trees and sifting thorugh the woods' foliage to actually get attracted to anybody.

 _It would be pleasant if she hadn't just vomited another man's cum practically on his shoes_ , she thought and that dark, self-deprecating sarcasm brought an ugly smile once again to her face, blooming under its strange mixture of colours.

\- 'What did you study, anyway?', she asked him then, part honestly curious and part wanting to see what he would come up with.

\- 'Nothing, I'm a self-taught artist, that's all', came his reply, a bait left dangling and Lotte's playfullness a bit deflated – 'But I couldn't help but notice that you're an artist too...-"

It was surprisingly easy to talk afterwards, now that they'd established a somewhat safe ground between them, namely their interests in and conflicting views on art. During their nighttime chat, Lotte learned that Uta was a mask maker by trade. Surprisingly, it was rather easy to pretend that she believed him when he claimed he worked mainly for SM circles. And who knew, maybe that he did.

 _The fact remained that his main source of income didn't involve human clientele_ , that much the woman was sure. Now she was really eager to visit him in his studio, though they had yet to reach that particular invitation. They spent the rest of their time together discussing the differences between their preferred media and when they parted ways before Uta's door it was equally easy to schedule some time for another meeting the next week.

What Lotte found disconcerting when she finally took Berg for a walk aterwards, and chilly air helped to clean the wispy tendrills of attraction from her head once more, was that the next week could very well be her last week in Tokyo. If Takeda wouldn't devour her whole, her illness will certainly do the honours.

_To_ _this temporal cocoon of a body,_ _at least_ _._

* * *

Monitor lights glistened in the darkened room, bathing the lone body on the bed in sickly, greenish hue. The woman's skin glistened from sweat, its droplets forming all along her neck, nestled between her breasts and trickling downwards, between her thighs. Small huffs of ragged breath escaped her chapped lips, the systematic dripping of water in the half opened bathroom across the room being the only other audible noise around her. The room around her was bare, save the lone TV – an older model, with functioning VHS set; old porno from antiquated stash in the hotel was on, and Lotte was only able look at the grainy, blurry pictures when Takeda took off her mask eventually towards the end.

It was the third meeting with Takeda, the penultimate one before the grand finale where she was to be served as the main meal, at least according to his probable MO that she'd attempted to cull from all the informations she had on him. He wasn't a patient man, and frigid and unresponsive as she was, Lotte wouldn't be given another safe round next time.

Even now, a good hour and a half after he'd left, her body bore all the marks of his growing restlessness. Bites covered her cleavage in garlands, and her neck, stiff and aching, began to colour violet. She still breathed with difficulty, not only from his eagerness to try breath play but also from the mask he made her wear all evening.

A shiny slip of leather, it made for a striking contrast with the pastel camisole Takeda expected her to wear that evening. Barred from seeing and hearing anything by the strategically placed patches of sturdy material, Lotte was left at the mercy of the older ghoul and not for the first time bitterly regretted taking up this particular assignment. And she had done some various unpleasant things to please D in the past.

None of them however involved getting hammered numb by the creature that wanted her very much dead after he was done with her.

Tracing the contours of her own face, still unpleasantly cold and clammy after all of the headgear had been taken away, Lotte wondered what could happen during their last meeting, already scheduled for the last week before christmas. A loosely implanted tradition that most modern families took up as an occasion for a relaxed party, Tokyo would look beautiful on this time, with all the commercial decorations lit up on streets.

One of them would go home to witness all that festivity. And as Lotte readied her body to get up and start dressing, all ache and gritted teeth, she dearly hoped it would be her to eventually emerge alive. For now, she could barely walk straight to reach the bathroom, her shaky hands sliding on the walls in search for light. Eventually, she ended up sitting on the loo in the dark, hissing from pain as she attempted to take a piss.

* * *

The dawn was setting up when Lotte skirted outside the hotel to the taxi parked nearby, her puff coat obscuring her from view as much as possible. The road home would take a while, and the girl curled in the backseat tried best to will herself not to go straight to Narita airport and go back to the States. Head in her hands, Lotte could feel her teeth clattering; she was febrile and was positively regretting ever coming to Japan on D's terms. She shouldn't be here in the first place, the organization wasn't willing to let her go, Alex was skeptical and only her loyalty to her maker made her stay. And yet, as difficult to fathom as it was at that point – she wanted to come, to break away from the States for as long as possible.

Spending this year in Tokyo was a privilege D paid from his own pocket, and Lotte was resigned to pay her due however he saw fit, including taking up suicidal assignment meant for fully matured, healthy individuals of their kind. Pain bloomed in her throat then, and she grabbed her neck beneath her scarf, trying to alleviate it just a little. The streets would be more or less deserted for a while, and the car was moving effortlessly forward. She would be home quite soon.

Silence hung between her and the driver, only hushed music playing on the radio. The driver's fingers were shaking on the wheel, and he would catch her eyes in the mirror periodically and avert them immediately. Angry at him for his disgust, Lotte's clawed at her neck – it was getting difficult to swallow now. Her thoughts were scattered and anxious, the questions regarding her obedience to D touched on and then fearfully abandoned. _What if she could-_ Massaging her throat, her fingers brushed briefly across four old scars, even now visible when she wasn't wearing a choker. Lotte jumped in her seat then and retracted her hand immediately. Her tentative thoughts died down as well, and Lotte felt constricted even more than when Takeda would tie her down like a Christmas ham. She continued to stare in the windows in malaise until they reached home, her body heavy and unmoving like a basalt sculpture.

Uta's windows were dark as always when she made to get out of the taxi, slow and heavy as if in pain. Telling the driver to keep the change, the girl stood on the driveway, observing the car till it disappeared. Nothing moved around her, and cold, icy breeze coiled her hair in front of her face. She shifted her weight once, eyes fixed on the building in front of her. Then a second time, and then she remembered that she still had her car keys in the pocket, a suddenly assuring thought. She examined them on her gloved palm. The tank was full - it could last for a while. The passenger seat was just big enough for a sports bag and a dog...

It was a flash of a thought, but in a split second an image of taking her car and going away flashed in her mind vividly, both adventure and and escape. _She would pack only_ _a_ _small bag of clothes, t_ _ake_ _Berg and all the cash she had.- Go to the countryside - her Japanese was getting better thanks to her friends, she could lay low and wait-_

Lotte's heart was beating really fast, and she kept gazing into the building in front of her, excited and fearful, almost jumping in place, her thoughts racing haphazardly. The temperature was really low now, and Berg would need a walk, but she persisted, walking in circles now and deep in thought, despite a runny nose and pangs of pain; her body wailing to be put to sleep. Plans of her escape, the excitation and stress coming off her in waves, thoughts of her attractive neighbour and whether to ask for his help and why- got all mixed up and Lotte no longer knew how to differentiate between them. Half dizzy, half feeling like vomiting, she felt for the car keys back in her pocket where she put them, reminding herself to keep thinking, or otherwise the momentum would be lost.

Turning around, she slipped into her building and onto the stairs, ignoring the darkness rising around her, the grim paintings and her half-done sculptures. Skipping every two stairs on her way, she kept thinking of who to ask for help, if anybody; how to frame it, how to quit university, what to do about the money and how to organize the food-

She'd only just barged into her living area when her legs gave up. Resolve still hummed in her, and the girl thought she hadn't felt this hopeful in a long time, even as she was lying face down on the carpet. Feeling it under her palms, her remaining friends from the main branch of the organization came to her mind, and tenderness she felt quickly got mixed with streaks of fear. Only D tied her to the organization formally, Lotte realized then as she tried to gather herself up on all fours and failed initialy. _Without her sire, she would be cut off formally for good-_

She willed herself to not think about it then, just push forward and do what was best for her. Her head was swimming now and she tried to grasp the nearby table to steady herself up - her fingers slid from the glass tabletop, shaking and slick with sweat. The carpet was thick and fluffy beneath her scraped knees and the coat felt heavy now. Taking it off, Lotte swayed to her bedroom, not for the first time gearing up to sleep in her clothes. _Sleep? No time for_ _it_ _, she had to pack, where was Berg-_ _She would sit on the bed just for a while, to gather her thoughts and motivation and then would be ready to go…_

There was a portrait hung on the naked concrete next to her side of the bed, a huge piece dominating the wall. She used to look at it every time after she woke up, but now it was covered with a canvas sheet, hidden but never quite abandoned or done away with, too important of a memento. Lotte avoided looking at where it hung, and busied herself with searching for a suitable bag, trying to figure out what to pack. She was tired and hungry, and Berg who was sleeping on the bed before kept pestering her for a walk, even though she walked her before she met up with Takeda-

Berg was getting old, she noticed, breaking her panicked concentration then. She was gigantic still, once a fitting companion to her previous owner, but she became frail. She needed a specialized diet and regular, but not exhausting exercise. More and more, Lotte found it difficult to provide her with proper care she required. Somebody would have to take care of her, after she...

She caught the sight of the portrait again then, and felt compelled to check what's beneath its cover. It'd been weeks now since she last looked at it; she got to know the person portrayed there inch by inch, even though he sat for it ages ago. Regardless of the epoch, the same strong jaw and long, long hair made it always easy to recognize him. She tried to paint him once, a copy of much later painting but could never got the bone structure right. Perhaps a sculpture would provide a better medium, perhaps there were some of them at their previous place...

Lotte cut those thoughts short, suddenly feeling raw and tender. He was old, too old now and they were centuries, not years apart. Startled suddenly, Lotte found herself touching her neck, just at the jugular, something she'd always avoided before today. The scars were unmistakenly there, permanent. Her head swayed to the side, the woman clasped her palms so tight her knuckles got white. Although still on the outside, her insides felt as if lit on fire. A wave of fatigue hit her then, and Lotte felt demotivated, suddenly drained of this buzzing hopefulness that had been propelling her to action just moments ago. _There was no point to change her location_ , she thought with piercing clarity. They were connected, and he would come for her whenever she would be.

The woman got naked under distant eyes of the man in the portrait, and curled up on a different side of the bed than usual, Berg surprised and displeased for having been relegated to another one and without the walk at that. She'd probably piss on the carpet before Lotte woke up, but the woman failed to care. The room was too warm now, and the duvet laid crumpled at her feet.

Lotte slept without dreams that night, and was still clutching at her throat when she woke up hours after.

* * *

_/_ _d_ _ecember 2009_ _,_ _a week and two days before Christmas/_

The pink bag of razors rustled under Lotte's fingers as she rummaged for something cheaper. With her grotesquely scrunched face, the woman perusing the racks in the vanity section gave the impression of someone decidedly annoyed and maybe the tiniest bit lost.

Winter break made it altogether possible to avoid any unncessary human contact now, and though missing her friends greatly, the woman intended fully well to limit going outside only to the most necessary instances, at night at that. Except nightly walks with Berg, where Uta would join them, she saw no other person, ghoul or human alike.

Just two days before, her hair had started going out in tufts, and she found one of her fully developed teeth in her morning oatmeal. Anxious and afraid, she panicked and promptly took it to the trash bin, even though her superiors drilled into her, and from her first days in the organization as well, that _no body parts_ _were to_ _be dumped where_ _ver_ _they c_ _ould be_ _potentially found by_ _any_ _unintended_ _parties_. She lost two more teeth as the evening came by, and spent the rest of it curled in the ball, her planned meetup with her neighbour all but forgotten in an anxious blur.

 _Well, fuck that now_ , Lotte thought grimly, wondering what the guys who took the trash could potentially think about a host of elongated teeth pointing out from the trash bags. She wouldn't be able to pin that one on Berg – her old dog certainly couldn't rival her own mawn under right circumstances.

And as far as avoiding those few precious people she knew in Tokyo went, Lotte seemed to make a great deal of progress on further alienating them over superficial excuses. As far as she knew, only Sachiko's family was out of town for christmas. The rest of the girls kept making plans to meet up, something Lotte felt especially bad for repeatedly refusing to get involved. From a hefty workload to a badly twisted ankle, her explanations grew increasingly flimsy and she started dreading every incoming call, Takeda's upcoming deadline notwithstanding. Losing those valuable people would hurt more than every bite the ghoul could leave on her.

 _Under any circumstances, human relations were fragile and complicated as they were_ , she mused. One wrong pull was all it took to untangle the complex spider web of gossamery threads, leaving nothing in its wake.

Her friends were definitely to be treated better, but she feared if they could eagerly welcome back a walking nightmare she started resembling lately. Perhaps only Takeda enjoyed poking and prodding at that mass of slowly rotting flesh barely held together underneath her ever thinning skin, out of some perverted tastes of his. Maybe he hid some necrofiliac urges as well? She could very well resemble a corpse, bound and gagged, barely moving under his body most of the time.

The atmosphere of the convenience shop did nothing to help lessen her sour mood. It was dimly lit at this hour, out of money saving reasons probably. No clients seemed to be around, and every noise Lotte made reverberated audibly. She could make out the faint tune of a radio placed in the farthest corner of the shop, the only respite for the sole cashier working these hours. It was rather dark between the aisles as well, and if she wanted to search the lower shelves, the woman had to take out her phone and use its screen as a flashlight.

Scanning the price tags for razors, Lotte had to crouch in order to reach for something more reasonably priced. Resigning herself to some obscure variety marketed to men, she was about to straighten herself up when a shuffling sound gave her pause. Only few seconds passed and it already felt like a very long time when the woman spoke, quietly but distinct enough for the man behind her.

\- „So you are a late night shopping enthusiast as well, Uta-san?"

Her voice sounded a bit throaty in an eerily desolate store, and the aisle they were standing in suddenly felt like it was closing around them oppresively. Still half crouching on the floor, Lotte wasn't in a hurry to stand up and properly face the silent figure waiting few paces to her right.

The ghoul's presence here was surprising, although it was no stretch to think that even they would need at least some of the necessities. That last thought sparked Lotte's curiosity, and she briefly wondered what in fact could Uta need that made him step out of his usual routine, entailing, as she had learned during their last talk, a brisk walk along the route leading straight from the metro station to their corner of industrial remnants. At least this was what he told her; if he hunted anywhere nearby besides that, she wasn't able to determine when and where. And whether she was still able to trace anybody at this point remained an open question as well.

\- „I needed coffee."

His simple words startled the woman from her chagrin at last, her head slowly moving in his direction, taking in his figure in its entirety. The ghoul was closer now, his overall posture relaxed, with face fixed into nonplussed mask he seemed to display on most occasions. Even at night, his glassess were firmly in their place, his insistence on wearing them ever interesting. And sure enough, there was not one, but two packages of two different coffee blends sitting in his arms.

\- „Fair enough". Lifting herself from the position that started to make her legs grow numb, Lotte threw the razor pack into the shopping basket casually. It landed beside several cans of beer with a sound bnoxiously loud in their deserted surroundings. „The hour is odd, though. You get food cravings in the middle of the night often?".

She was pushing it, with no subtlety whatsoever. If what she assumed earlier was correct, and the male ghoul knew she was no more human than he – she could have some reasons to worry. His status as a ghoul hung between them, unmentionable as far as he was concerned. Better not to breach that line, perhaps.

Through the recent, more frequent interactions between them, it was an unspoken agreement of sorts not to touch the full extent of their identities. To each other they were a late-bloomer student who enjoyed sculpting and a mask artist, period. But she was feeling bratty and, something which she had discovered in recent days, liked to try and gently provoke him from time to time.

_So much for_ _taking_ _no careless steps around that guy,_ _though_ _._

He gave her an easy smile then, a slight chuckle making his broad chest heave slightly with the movement, the action awaking delicate flutters of excitement throughout her body, a decidedly pleasant feeling given its rarity these days.

\- „Look who's talking though" came his amused voice, gentle, though ever the slightest hint of teasing could be discerned. „You don't seem to follow any sort of healthy routine yourself".

And she knew he was taking in her own appearance as keenly as she had been his. She could easily imagine his sight sliding from her scratched hands, travelling all the way upwards to her bandaged neck and finally resting on her face, waxen and rather greenish in appearance as of late. Deep violet circles were etched under her eyes, seemingly permanent at this point. There was also the case of all this beer sitting casually at the bottom of her shopping basket.

Not much to be proud of, either.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Lotte lifted her basket and made a move to head in the direction of the cashier. Walking was somewhat of a challenge for her now, and she wondered if to the outside observer she looked as fucked as she was feeling recently.

Clearly her rigid posture and limping movements caught Uta's eye, as he subtly blocked her from moving any further, stepping casually in her tracks. Lotte swayed a bit, the sudden movement not good for her swirling head, and instinctively, the ghoul moved to support her; a slight growl had already formed on her lips, as if she was prepared to pounce on him if he dared to close the distance between them even more.

Slender hands travelled up and down her elbows to help still her posture and immediately after left, before she could in any way push them away, the movement already forming in her muscles. Uta's sight ghosted over her tensed jaw line; a glint of curiosity about the extent of baiting she could take before she would opt to bite clearly visible under the stray rays of a halogen bulb hung to their right.

His sclerae were pitch black underneath his glasses, and looked absolutely captivating. Now that Lotte thought about it, when she had been attacked all those days ago, she didn't bother to notice this particular detail of ghoul anatomy. Maybe because of the shock and adrenaline that informed all her actions then. Or maybe because when she was finished with him, there were no eyes to be spoken of left.

Wishing to concentrate on something else, and quickly, Lotte looked in front of her. Through Uta's unzipped jacket, layers of clothing were visible and Lotte could swear the warmth he exuded felt distinctly human Also, he smelled _delicious_ , and the girl quickly put up her scarf around her mouth, her teeth suddenly itching for a bite of his flesh.

_Or two._

Had she been more trusting ( _or perhaps – much more hungry?_ ), she would've certainly felt the enticing pull of this warm body just a small distance across her. As it was, you simply had to adopt a healthy dose of distrust when dealing with a a ghoul who hadn't got that strong by simply existing peacefully for all those years. The sense of self-preservation dictated so, and she still listened to it occasionally

So she took a resolute step back, clearly not wanting anything more of that apparently very palatable body within her reach. Not now, at least. She was growing more impatient with her up to now silent companion as well. Her fingers now painfully clenched around the basket handle, Lotte could see them whitening and made a movement to put the basket on the ground.

\- „Why did you stop me? Can't we talk, like, outside?", she asked, gesturing to the shop's far exit.

\- „You didn't come two days ago", the male ghoul stated in response, a slight grimace forming on his lips. „ Has something happened?".

He looked vaguely dissapointed and Lotte's stubborn posture slumped a little. After all, he invited her to his place, something she would be curious to see, and she spent that evening nursing the wounds after her baby teeth started falling out. Not exactly the most glamorous excuse out there.

\- „Not in the best of shapes, are you?" he continued in a low and quiet voice, and despite its volume Lotte didn't have much trouble in decoding the underlying seriousness behind it. „Isn't that a high time to take care of your health?".

\- „Should you really be interested in that...?", the inflection in Lotte's voice was supposed to show just how displeased she was with him asking personal questions. One accusatory finger firmly pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt, the woman clearly wanted him out of her way, right now.

And she definitely hoped he wouldn't hear the anxiety in her voice as well.

\- „Why, is that a touchy subject for you, Lotte-san?". Raising his palms in a gesture of amused defence, the ghoul gently took her hand from his chest, stepping back and out of her way at last. Lotte moved past him, carefuly avoiding his gaze. The ghoul looked after her limping figure and followed suit to the cash register.

It just seemed she would have a date for tonight's movie marathon.


	7. 7.

 

Chapter 7

**A/N** A short chapter this time, to be expanded eventually.

* * *

 

„ _And how long have you been seventeen_?”

The pale heroine at the centre of the scene queried, camera panning fast around to underscore her distress. The male lead, who looked even paler than her, seemed conflicted as if the truth was something forbidden, dangerous even. Granted, he'd been wearing a very pained expression since the beginning, but now his scowl deepened, if possible.

„ _...A while_ ”

„Tell me this is a horror movie after all”, Uta drawled, but shifted his position so that he could sink further into the fleshy material of the sofa and watch more comfortably; without peeling his eyes off the screen, he reached out and brought the mug of coffee they had prepared before to his lips.

The room around them was dark and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Lotte didn't have any problems with believing his sclerae were tattooed, more interested in knowing whether he had any problems with seeing or not; she mentioned her friend had lost her sight in one eye after doing the same.

A snort came from where Lotte was curled up, snug in her fluffy blanket and a cup of cocoa on her lap. Berg was sleeping inbetween the two, and they both took turns to pet her absentmindedly from time to time.

„No, it's a first in the series. I think there are three more to go?”. The ghoul rolled his eyes at that; still, he toyed with an idea that he'd ask Lotte to borrow the books if she had them around. The look on her face would be priceless.

It was dead of the night now and besides Berg snoring, only the sound of laptop heating up could be discerned; Misaki pirated the movie right after it became available over the net and Lotte had its copy sitting on the disc ever since. It seemed good idea to watch it now, what with her friendly neighbour deciding to tag along and drop in.

So far, the ghoul seemed positively entrenched in the story of a doomed romance between vampire and a mortal girl. Paying him sly side-glances from time to time, Lotte saw his expression shifting from amused to ridiculed as the scenes progressed. Unironically enough, they both had a good time watching the movie, although none of them would admit that.

It was the scene towards the finale, where the female lead evaded her vampiric friends and followed the antagonist to the decrepit ballet studio, that Lotte visibly had enough.

„That's just ridiculous”, she scoffed and sipped her now cold cocoa audibly. From the corner of his eye, Uta could see that she seemed scandalized. She would snort derisively at times before – especially the glittering bits and the movie's particular brand of vegetarianism got their fair dose of thrashing, to which Uta only rolled his eyes; he was willing to suspend his standards for some hour and a half.

„You question her decisions _only now_?”, he asked, incredulous but amused, after she had almost spit cocoa on herself and Lotte chuckled at that and shaked her head. The lead was a hot mess anyway, she said. The woman was sitting on her feet and hugging her knees; her eyes weren't leaving the screen now, following the tense showdown. Uta voiced his hope for a bloody conclusion then, and seemed disappointed when the bulk of it happened offscreen.

They discussed how lukewarm they'd felt about the ending as they did the dishes afterwards, Lotte scrubbing and Uta drying them off with a cloth. It looked strange, no dishwasher in a dwelling that, impractically enough, boasted an indoor swimming pool and a rooftop library. He told her so, to which Lotte gave a noncommital shrug.

„I get by without lots of things”, were her words ( _the hypocrite_ , Uta thought) as she finished rinsing the last cup and was drying her hands with a towel.

Aside those few pieces they had just cleaned, her kitchen looked stark, unused. Uta thought it looked similar to his, and not for the first time wondered whether her diet simply didn't include processed food at all. Perhaps she preferred it just as fresh as he did. Glancing sideways to her, it was difficult to imagine she could hunt in this state at all. Carefully hidden under her leggings and a fluffy hoodie, only her face gave away her poor health. Yet she didn't act perturbed around him now, joking and commenting on the movie animatedly. If she felt ill, it seemed he wouldn't be privy to this knowledge. _Pity_ , crossed his mind as he followed the woman to the day room shortly after.

Once again curled up on the sofa, with Berg marching off to bedroom before they finished the dishes, Uta could see how their knees were almost touching now. As she leaned into their shared space laughing at something he'd said, Lotte's body radiated warmth that was reflected in an unhealthy redness of her cheeks. From underneath the material of her hoodie, only tips of her fingers peeked and suddenly Uta had a fleeting thought of feeling her hands through it or even hugging her, random as it was. The sensation of bodily heat filtered through soft, yet thick material promised a satisfying hug, yet he left that particular whim hanging. _Maybe for another time_ , he thought and put his head back on the sofa, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding up before.

As Lotte was ranting on how she thought the movie they'd just watched, though undeniably watchable, was sending all the wrong messages, Uta seized the moment to try and fish subtly for some answers. He was fairly sure she chose the movie out of her lazy sense of irony, and wanted to follow this thread some more, just to get a general picture. Presently, the bone of contention in their discussion was how for Lotte the relationship at the centre of the plot was toxic, unhealthy, whereas Uta couldn't believe how she didn't see the unfeasability of it all in the first place. Might as well roll with whatever the plot threw at them, she retorted then.

„It's a vampire story, Lotte”, he baited her, not so subtly eyeing her pouting mouth; he had a hunch she wouldn't react well to mansplaining at all – he enjoyed goading her lightly. „It's ridiculous concept to begin with, an unreal premise if you ask me”.

Scowling, the girl nevertheless agreed that it definitely wasn't traditional approach to the lore, and a naive one at that. Uta gave her a sly smile then and wanted to know if she was even interested in that kind of thing, since he himself couldn't care for imaginary creatures at all. He preferred his fantasy - the ghoul continued - in a dystopian costume, preferrably with a lot of angsty AI existentialism thrown in for a good measure.

Lotte however, wouldn't take the bait. She merely gave him a wry, tired smile and commented that as it was, those imaginary creatures served as a mirror humans projected lots of their emotional baggage onto, and were as good as any for this purpose. She thrummed an impatient staccatto on her knee with her fingers as she spoke; it seemed she wasn't willing to follow his planned thread of conversation. He would wait patiently for the eventual reveal till she tired and caved, he decided then, as if he were planning on adding an unusual insect specimen to his childhood collection, for a later dissection. Patient observation was an essential first step, and he was curious what pieces her whole could yield in the end.

They chatted leisurely afterwards, an occassion for Uta to have a look around her place. He wanted to see the library and the pool, and also all the paintings and sculptures below. Lotte kept to his side, commenting on the pieces she felt she did a good work on, but mostly staying quiet. She was an able painter, but clearly unmotivated and unwilling to search for her own language yet. He preferred her smaller sculptures that littered the rooftop studio and marvelled at some bigger, unfinished ones. Her talent shined in these organic masses, the different kinds of stones pliant under her touch and blooming into multitude of shapes with alarming vitality, an unsettling excess.

The building she lived in was unkempt, and they weaved their way with some difficulty to reach the monochromes around the walls, threading carefully in thick layer of dust carpeting the floors below. She owned some older masterpieces as well; not for the first time Uta wondered just how she financed this lifestyle of such random opulence amid stylised disrepair.

Perhaps her millieu would prove to be much more interesting than the girl herself, then. Attractive in her unravelling, and hinting at some interesting qualities, the woman at his side was clearly no longer in her prime condition though and, if Uta was to sum her up succintly, he would say she was as if dulled on edges. He wanted to see the edges for himself one day, he thought, when all the grit and glamour about her was taken away.

As she was showing him around, Uta pretended he didn't see how tired and ill Lotte seemed with each passing minute, but nevertheless subtly maneuvered the conversation so as to wish her good night not long after they had started the tour. He asked her to get some rest then; his gentle palms rested for a fleeting moment on her hand, on her forehead. „You seem to have a fever”, he observed, his sight sliding from her round, apple-red cheeks to her mouth; it formed a slight „O” as her eyes got slightly criss-crossed following his hand on her face.

He'd say she was flustered, hopefully even slightly tickled by his attention. Maybe the movie got to her - even he was tempted to embrace her before after all. _Silly things_ , they both seemed to think and in a sudden, shared moment, Lotte took a resolute step back and Uta allowed his hands to naturally come back to his sides.

„Well then – he said, his one hand lifted in an effortless goodbye – I'll be going. Take care, Lotte”

And with that, he was gone – the door clicked into their place with finality after he let himself out, and for few moments, Lotte was unwilling to come and properly close it. She felt slightly uncomfortable, as if she was copied and pasted into that very moment, not remembering the seconds leading to him touching her, then leaving. This had happened often enough before, a feature of an attention disorder, she was told once. A busy interesction, in a middle of a date or mid-kill, she would freeze-rewind into next moment as if reality around her glitched, tearing at the seams.

Certainly interesting to feel it at that moment, awakening to the slight flutterings of desire, disoriented and even surprised. Bewildered, she observed Uta's retreating form those few moments before, and could only think on how soft his clothes must've felt, how clean he smelled. How ravenous he made her feel.

She had never wanted to eat somebody's flesh as badly as then.

* * *

 

The final meeting with Takeda had been surprisingly postponed till the Christmas Eve, if one cared for Western nomenclature. The irony wasn't missed on Lotte, who had to reluctantly decline Uta's invite for a casual outing at his friend's bar the same day. Even less willing, although for reasons that hurt way more personally, was she to finally schedule a meeting with the girls, in a whole squad for the last time before Sachiko would leave for her annual winter retreat.

There could be no other time to meet regardless of the outcome with Takeda, Lotte reasoned. She could end up dead, whether by his hand or succumbing to her change, unprepared as she was on both accounts. Or she would be alive, but absolutely unable to mingle with humans anyway. Whatever the outcome, she wanted to see them, to somehow show them how much she cherished their friendship. The day before Christmas Eve, another painful irony, Lotte would march to the karaoke place that Michiru had chosen and allow herself to be at ease, for it all would end shortly, one way or another.

So it was with a fervor that had to be enough whenever her body failed her, the woman threw herself into sculpting, shaping things that she wanted to be remembered for, long before she left Tokyo. Working allowed her to chase that elusive state of total concentration on the task at hand, so much that it was Uta who had been walking Berg for the last few days. Citing the dry spell at his work this time of a year („not much traffic in the kinky circles”, he said, shrugging), he spent his evenings at her place, observing how she bent over her rough models, trying on and improvising shapes she felt were best suited for the three girls.

Willing to attempt a more solid medium, Lotte found herself unable to. Her fingers failed her, unsteady and quivering and the different kinfs of stones she tried to carve would bear ugly chippings and fissures that deformed the original concepts. She had to settle for the finely finished clay, and even then she lost her first fingernail to Misaki's sleek, nimble shape of a dancer, originally imagined in spelter, had she more time or stamina to properly cast it; Misaki was a secret Tchaikovsky fan, it turned out once, and that passion suggested the theme.

When it happened, she was alone in her workshop, battling a sudden sweating spell and a sense of vertigo that chased her every move. She had already grown a tooth in a place teeth weren't suppose to bloom at all that morning, and managed to rip it off before she choked on it. Over a hysterical phone call across the ocean, Leonard suggested she would have to do this often when it had fully begun, as she wasn't yet built to house them all. He'd advised to do this whenever a new one would sprout; so far, Lotte had a collection of three, notwithstanding the three she had already foolishly thrown to garbage. She cried and burnt out all the pain with bleach; it was difficult to get pure grain alcohol Tokyo.

She was fashioning a delicate curve of a dancer's neck when her finger hitched into the clay. When she took it away, the dull throbbing and wetness on its tip alerted her to curiously gruesome view. At first she looked at the nail with a sense of disembodied interest, until the pain set and she had to choke back her wails, as Uta had just brought Berg back from her evening walk. He found her tearstricken and white as sheet, but thankfully wasn't asking questions why she was suddenly wearing a crudely wrapped, bloodstained bandage on her palm. He merely suggested he'd help her bandage it properly.

That night Lotte couldn't sleep. The pain in her finger segued into the kind of a dull throbbing that kept her alert, but no longer crying. Turning from one side to another, she rolled onto her stomach for a time being and finally settled on the back. No position seemed to give her any reprieve.

The skin on her forearms itched more and more every day now.

* * *

 

„Look, the snow's falling”, Uta said once, over the art magazine he had been leafing through, on the last day before the meeting with the girls. Lotte planned to fire her designs that night. From where she was working on putting the finishing touches on the John the Bapist' severed head for Michiru, the woman startled and gave him a disoriented glance; concentration looked like an expression of anger on her, and a prominent crease would form on her forehead whenever she was deep in work. It was hard to soften her features when she had to stop.

Bent over her workbench, the woman swatted an unruly strand of hair with fingers caked with clay as she faced him; her forehead, the arms where the bandages on her hands wouldn't reach shined with sweat. Stretching up with a pop, Lotte got up to see the snow then, curious and in need of a break. If she didn't put a clear cut to this stage of work process, she would end up putting those 'finishing touches' long after the New Year. _I might be dead by this time, anyway_ , she thought, surprised that it had ceased to give her the same sense of vertigo as before.

They were in her workshop, somewhere within the labirynthine recesses of the basement underneath the building. Cavernous, it only had a thin row of windows over the ground level outside. To see it from where she worked, Lotte had to clear a place on the workbench and climb it, to reach the level where the snow was visible.

Uta stopped his reading to observe the woman balancing on her tiptoes, fogging the window panes with her breath and clearing it to watch the snow some more. For the first time since they met, she seemed genuinely flustered with glee,her face lit up as she turned to him and skipped from the table to share her excitement. The clay figurines lining the workbench rattled as she jumped and Lotte looked briefly in horror, but came to the ghoul's side when it was clear her work wouldn't end up disfigured before being fired,

„It's super rare to see snow here, no?”, she asked excitedly then, sitting cross-legged on the floor, next to where he sat on the old armchair she sometimes rested inbetween breaks from work.

„Would you like to take a walk tonight, after all?”, the ghoul asked, suddenly eager to put some distance between himself and this strangely radiant girl.

Maybe the cold air would help him get his mind together.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> accompanying Tumblr blog by the name of lottesseenaghoul


End file.
